


Through New Eyes

by BenVSA



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anxiety Issues, Drunk Werewolves, Going to college, M/M, Pixies, Sterek Big Bang Challenge, Truth Spells
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-30
Updated: 2015-01-30
Packaged: 2018-03-09 17:16:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 21,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3257984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BenVSA/pseuds/BenVSA
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Through the trials and tribulations of the past year or so in Beacon Hills, the social circle of the pack has grown and shrunk in various ways. The only thing that's remained a constant is that Derek and Stiles really don't seem to get along too well. Neither of them seem to want to budge from this stable state they're in, but it just feels uncomfortable for the both of them. They can't seem to understand each other, neither able to really see them. Only through brand new eyes could they really see for the first time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Wow, I've honestly nothing I can say about this now. I finished it about four months back and rereading over it, I'm not sure how I managed to keep going to the end. Anyway, this was submitted for the Sterek Big Bang, it's being posted up a little later than the scheduled date considering I got rather caught up in some issues, but it's up now and, yeah. Enjoy ^_^

Derek can vividly remember the first time he ever laid eyes on Stiles, even after a year or so since their first meeting. He was like an over-excitable child with no sense of privacy or subtlety. He wasn’t anything important either. He was a tag along with the newly turned Scott, which was the only reason Derek remembered. When one was around, the other was never too far behind. He’d done most of the talking since then, and he never really seemed to stop. Like a fly; constant buzzing. No matter how often Derek swatted, Stiles just wouldn’t go away.

Since then, it seemed like the two of them kept ending up together, even when they were the last people on Earth the other wanted to be with: the wolfsbane bullet, Peter being the Alpha, the Kanima Incident.

It happened so often, it felt like the world was playing some cruel joke on them since neither could manage to enjoy the other’s company. Something in the way they spoke to each other always caused some clash between them. Stiles was snarky and comical, while Derek was blunt and sometimes too serious. Regardless of repeatedly saving each others’ lives, they just couldn’t get past it. Hell, Stiles, a human, looking like he had even less strength than the average male, had been able to hold the paralyzed werewolf up for over 2 hours in a swimming pool. No easy feat even for someone trained with those skills.

Even though time had passed and they had overcome many obstacles, they still constantly snapped and came to blows with one another. It doesn’t matter how many deaths they have to witness, how many loved ones they lose to this supernatural war that is constantly coming to bite them in the ass. Whatever camaraderie that shows itself afterwards fades out just as quickly as it appeared.  
It wasn’t frustrating or confusing so much as it was… well, Derek didn’t know what to call it. He and Scott had an uneasy and tumultuous relationship at best. They went from uneasy allies, to outright enemies, eventually settling at an advisor- Alpha relationship after the Nogitsune incident.

In fact, that was what confused Derek the most. Saving Stiles’ life, along with helping restore his humanity and self, should have allowed for some kind of bond to grow, right? Stiles was perhaps jittery at best, outright broken at worst and yet, through all that, nothing changed between them to this day. For some reason or another, it bothered him.  
Scott, as the new Alpha had tried to bring the group together before they planned to go their own ways, if only for a few years. He’d come to accept his place at Beacon Hills. He understood how he was needed there now and had started implementing days where they all got together and just hung out. It was nice- almost like having family. But even then, he would simply look at Stiles and go blank. He wouldn’t know what to say or do to get along with him, yet everyone else made it seem so easy. What did they see that he couldn’t?

________________________________________

The last summer for the pack before graduation and college was slowly dawning upon them, and the thought that they would be going their separate way was a wake-up call of sorts. Scott had begun making weekly plans (sometimes scheduling meetings on more than one day) to have them bond and try to get everyone together. 

For a while, it was shaky ground. Stiles had been all gung-ho about getting to spend time with the friends he’d made over the last year, especially considering how much time Scott had been caught up initially with Allison, then Kira, then whatever business it was that Alpha’s had to do. He wanted, nay, needed his best buddy back- his bro, his amigo, his hetero-life-partner. Lydia was definitely a plus. Admittedly not as head over heels for her as he had been before seeing her admit her feelings for Jackson right in front of him, he was happy to be like a best friend to her as well, kind of a crime fighting duo, really.

Everyone else had just been kind of a bonus. When he considered that not long ago, the only person he’d ever really considered a friend had been Scott, thinking he had a whole pack of them just made him light up.

The Derek aspect of it all had him a little nervous to begin with, considering one of his fondest memories with the guy was being threatened by him in his own jeep- something involving his jugular and teeth. 

Stories for the ages. 

He just never got Derek Hale. The guy seemed like an emotional wreck, desperately in need of people to call a family. He thought that was part of the whole reason he’d turned Isaac, Erica and Boyd in the first place. Even now though he’d kind of separated himself. On movie nights, Stiles would be squashed in-between Scott (with Kira cuddled up on his lap) and Lydia, his own thighs the host of the popcorn bowl and Isaac at the very least sat on the arm of the seat or on the floor. Danny, recently outed as a follower of the supernatural (AKA, not telling anyone he knew about werewolves or the supernatural in general, only ‘coming out’ as it were once Ethan had left) was also curled up on the floor. They’d all try to be huddle up and friendly, like a group hug without the hugging. 

Derek, however, would always seat himself as far away as possible. Even when he was dragged into the group, he’d be seated as far away from Stiles as possible.  
The two of them had a strange relationship, he supposed. Stiles was a love him or hate him kind of guy at the end of the day, likeable in his own right, but still perhaps a bit too carefree or excitable for some. He and Lydia had never even really been friends until all the supernatural stuff brought them together. She’d thought he was beneath her, not worth her time, until she realized that they needed each other, though not in the way he’d expected. Now however, he’d not have it any other way 

That was really what most of Stiles’ friendships were based on. He understood people. He looked at them without judgement, seeing past their walls for the person underneath.

But Derek? He’d seen past the monoliths the werewolf had put up and still couldn’t figure the guy out. When he actually thought about it, he’d had so many ‘bonding moments’ with Derek but they stayed about the same level of their almost non-existent relationship, constantly trying to one up the other. Of course, they didn’t hate each other, but they certainly weren’t buddy-buddy, or even at acquaintance level.. Maybe just once he’d liked to have made the werewolf smile, to be humane and friendly instead of snapping at each other, being pinned to walls or even just being told to go home.

Really, he wanted a new way to really see Derek Hale.

Fate was cruel to them like that.


	2. Pixie Dust

Fuck the Nemeton!

Why had there been no other way to try and find their parents? Ever since Stiles had been sacrificed to the thing, it had caused nothing but trouble- releasing a demonic firefly, somehow bringing Kate ‘Psycho’ Argent back from the dead... but this was by far the worst of them. 

Fucking Pixies!

The notion of them had been so simple at first.

“What, you mean like fairies?” Stiles couldn’t stop himself from asking.

“Not exactly,” Deaton had begun explaining, pulling out a small vial from his cabinet of voodoo spells and other magic stuff (which, since they’d learnt of the veterinarian’s involvement with the supernatural, Stiles had constantly wanted to get a good look at). The small jar was filled with what seemed to be preschool arts and crafts materials.

“Glitter paint?” Scott raised his eyebrow in confusion, the small flakes inside giving off all sorts of different colors shining in the light of the back room of Deaton’s office.

“To an untrained eye, but this is a little bit more dangerous,” Deaton explained. 

“This is Pixie Dust, is very powerful and incredibly potent, especially to other supernatural creatures such as yourself, Scott.”

Placing the vial on the table and uncorking it with a slight pop, the druid carefully sprinkled a tiny bit out onto the table. 

“Not only does it contain many magical elements, and though rather clichéd in both name and nature, is indeed used in many spells and rituals.” 

“But,” sealing the vial again, Deaton reached down and pulled out a larger bottle of some kind of sticky fluid, labelled ‘Jackson Whittemore’. Memories flooding back, it was obvious to them as venom, not so much to anyone else.

Stiles, of course, knew that far too well, having suffered its effects twice and having to keep another victim afloat. Right now, he would remain unnamed (“What do you mean I bring nothing to the group?! I’m the brainy one, duh!” “You’re also the one with the giant, annoying mouth who constantly plays damsel in distress!” “I’m never in distress!”). 

So yes, trying to stop it from being stolen was probably a good idea.

At first, when a small drop of it fell on the pile of pixie dust, there was a faint sizzling sound that Stiles had to lean in to actually hear. Scott, thanks to his werewolf hearing and what not, stood a little away. Suddenly, he went rigid, and quickly dashed towards Stiles.

“Get back!” he yelled, pushing Stiles away. With a blinding flash and almost deafening crack (really, clichéd much?), the pixie dust burst into flames at least four times larger than the glitter on the table and left a rather distinctive hole.

Stiles closed his eyes and held himself against the wall, feeling disoriented. It was the mother of all dizzy-spells, and for a moment, there was an internal war between passing out or throwing up. After a few seconds, his head started to clear up and he opened his eyes to see a blurry Scott at his side, his veins black from draining away Stiles’ pain. Was he in pain? He wasn’t sure of what to call it, but he certainly felt better.

“Noted,” he choked out as he managed to steady himself, giving an ‘I’m okay’ smile to Scott and standing up on his own. “Do not use as Kanima antidote.”

“It has rather radical varying effects between supernatural creatures and materials,” Deaton eventually continued, as if Stiles hadn’t almost suffered third degree burns. “It won’t exactly be dangerous to werewolves, but… Well, Scott taking away the effects from Stiles, you’re about to find out.”

Scott looked like his eyes were about to pop out of his skull. “W-What? I only took his pain away, that’s all.”

“Spells and supernatural powers work a little differently, Scott, you should know this by now,” Deaton explained, keeping his usual level voice in attempt to calm the situation. Scott’s almost terrified face and scared puppy eyes (seriously, how did he keep that adorable charm no matter what the situation) showed that it wasn’t working.

“I’m not gonna burst into flames am I?” he panicked. “Or worse, like, split in half, lose my skin…”

“Grow a tail?” Stiles chipped in with a smirk, the humour obviously lost as his best friend glared at him.

“None of those things will happen, and it was only a little amount,” Deaton continued before seeming to completely ignore Scott’s mini panic-attack. 

“The Pixies will be around Beacon Hills trying to find a new home near the power the Nemeton is giving out. Admittedly, your assumption of fairies wasn’t far off, they will hang around and play tricks while they search for a place to stay and may be somewhat,” he said, his lips twitching, “mischievous.”

“Uh, not liking that pause there Doc,” Stiles said, only receiving an annoyingly calm smile in response. They helped clear up the mess when Stiles noticed Scott had stopped right in his tracks, grinning a little and his eyes looking at the tip of his nose. He took in the sight of his best friend looking a little derpy before slowly raising his hands up and loudly clapped in Scott’s face, bringing him out of his stupor. 

“Uh, Scott, you alright?” Scott blinked rapidly for a few moments before shaking his head and looking up at Stiles with his usual dopey grin.

“Yeah, uh, why? Something wrong?” He replied, a bit of mood whiplash considering his panic not just a few minutes ago. Apparently that was expressed on his face as Scott simply laughed it off. 

Shaking his head, they finished up and Stiles left. He had lunch with his dad and he had to make sure that he stayed on his diet, or else he would ditch the decaf and grab a cheeseburger. His eyebrows raised again as Scott leaned out the door and waved Stiles off like a child waving off his mother.

Stiles thought that was the last serious thing he’d hear about Pixies.  
________________________________________  
“They ruined my fucking econ report! It took me weeks to write that!”

“I wouldn’t have minded them removing all my shoelaces, if they weren’t tangled up like Christmas lights!”

“Every single right sleeve on all of my clothing’s been shredded, I look like a punk reject!”

“I seriously hope Derek hasn’t been sneaking in here and just—why are his pants in my room?!”

Pixies apparently saw the pack as a tiny bit of a nuisance, and the feeling was reciprocated... This had been the last straw however.

An entire four page essay, fine. Playing about with his laces, fine. Having to replace his entire wardrobe, fine. But finding the numerous pairs of pants belonging to a certain werewolf strewn all over his floor? That was the line (Stiles knew he had strange limits, but seriously, this?).

“Don’t panic about it, just try not to mess around with them too much,” Scott replied a little hesitantly. 

Every time pixies had been brought up since their first discussion, he’d been really nervous about going anywhere near anything that they’d touched. It was like even nudging them would give him cancer or something. Stiles had tried getting an answer about what happened after he’d left that day. Scott always replied with a stammer and somehow managed to change the conversation.

“Me, Derek and Deaton are going out to the preserve today to see what’s up. We think that all this commotion is about something to do with territory and this is them giving a sort of challenge for it.”

“Why are they coming after me then? And my house? Not to mention my clothes and my laptop. I’m not a werewolf.” 

Stiles already knew what the answer to that was going to be, but he always did like to emphasise that when something was the werewolves fault, he was human.

And every time, Scott replied, “You’re not a werewolf, but you are Pack. It carries the same connotation.”   
Stiles just huffed in response, muttering something about how he should’ve accepted the bite. He wasn’t serious though, of course, just upset.

“Don’t worry about it. We’re gonna sort it out then we’re meeting up for Pack night at Derek’s loft.”

Stiles would’ve questioned why they were going there instead of Scott’s place, but he had to admit, he preferred the loft. It was roomier, cooler, kind of made him feel adult (despite when he belly flopped onto the couch one time and refused to move as they watched a Lord of the Rings marathon. It was possibly the only time Scott had used his werewolf strength on Stiles was done to pry him from his seat).

Despite the slight annoyance of being left out, Stiles agreed. In the meantime he also promised Scott that he would handle Derek’s pants (oh how that sentence seemed wrong, especially in context) with rubber gloves (oh God it only got worse) before they hung up. He hated being left in the lurch, but he knew his place right now, he was the laundry boy. For Derek. He’d better be getting paid for this.

________________________________________

A few hours and one spin cycle in the washer and dryer later, Stiles pulled his jeep up to Derek’s loft and immediately something felt wrong. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but there was something… off.

His backpack was stuffed with Derek’s freshly cleaned pants, unable to bring his laptop, but after having to rewrite his entire paper in one night, work wasn’t on his priority list. He wanted to just relax and have fun with his friends tonight.

The ideas of fun and Derek’s loft mixing together seemed impossible, but as he headed up toward the door he heard a sound foreign for this specific building. Laughter. Specifically a deep, husky, full-on laugh that echoed out into the hallway from the unlocked door.

For a moment, he wondered if they’d invited Deaton to come along with them, but to be fair, he had kind of a high voice, there was no way it would sound as booming as the noise vibrating around him.

Stiles opened the door and for a brief moment, stood there in silence, completely stunned as he saw the entire pack dog-piling (pun intended) onto Derek. 

Derek Hale. 

Who often turned down physical contact with a threatening snarl or glare, whom when he didn’t get his own way, tended to threaten violence.

He was being tickled.

He was letting them tickle him.

And he was laughing.

Loudly.

Stiles’ mind couldn’t process this and for a brief minute he stood there, his mind in overdrive as he took it.

“God, s-stop!” Derek bellowed out between chortles (Derek was chortling, what the fuck), rolling around much like a puppy getting a belly rub. His eyes were closed tightly and he was almost in tears as Scott and Kira assaulted his feet, Isaac keeping him pinned while Danny and Lydia assaulted the older man's torso. Stiles was so sure that the minute this started Danny had called dibs on going for those abs, but no one was stopping him.

What was this? What was happening?!

Despite keen werewolf senses of three people in the room, it took them a while before anyone acknowledged Stiles’ presence. And it was Derek of all people who did so.

“Ah! St-Stiles,” he called out, almost begging him. “Haha-help me!”

Scott looked up at the mention of Stiles and he grinned happily, like, huge. Stiles hadn’t seen his best friend beaming so much since he’d first gotten a date with Allison (God rest).

“Sti~les!” 

Scrambling up, again, like an excited young puppy, he practically leaped over to the door to tackle a suddenly panicking Stiles to the ground.

“Everyone, grab Stiles!”

What? This was the most childish thing, and yet the minute Scott called out for it, he was scrambling to get away. 

“S-Scott? No, what’re you—no no no!”   
Stiles was quickly separated from his bag and the next thing he knew, he was being hoisted up and planted face first onto the couch. Seconds later there were other bodies crowding around him with grabby fingers, assaulting him in the most sensitive of places.

Not too soon after, he was laughing almost as hard as the werewolf had been mere seconds ago. In fact, he briefly glanced over to see Derek laying on the ground, panting for breath, like the guy had run a marathon (if he was human and not superfast or have incredible stamina). He would’ve enjoyed the sight were it not for the fact that he was now enduring the same torture and he wasn’t superhuman.

The next few minutes went by in a blur of roaring laughter that made his ribs burn and hands being much gropier than he was used to. Not that he was complaining.

Soon, though, he was left in the same position he’d seen the beta werewolf in moments ago, lying flat on his stomach, limp and breathing heavily. There was still a weight on his back however and despite the protesting of his body, he turned over to see Derek, unnaturally beaming down (seriously, if he was wolfed out he’d probably have a wagging tail).

“You have my pants,” Derek mumbled quietly, like he was sharing some private joke, not that it was like everyone in this room didn’t hear it (or hadn’t heard about it already).

“Uhm… yeah, in my bag,” Stiles panted in reply, still trying to catch his breath. 

Uttering the last syllable of bag, Derek had already leapt off of him and launched himself at the bag so casually discarded by the front door. 

“Does someone wanna fill me in here? Cause this isn’t normal.”

Though there were giggles between them, the pack seemed to feign ignorance until Derek stood from inspecting Stiles’ bag, rolling his shoulders and turning back to the human with his regular cowl.

“Pixie Dust…” he huffed, doing his best to act his normal self. He held out around two seconds before he and Scott burst out into fits of laughter again.

“From what I can gather,” Kira spoke up, still grinning widely, but not sounding anywhere near as excitable as either Scott or Derek. “The two of them went out with Deaton and did manage to house the pixies, but, not without a bit of a fight. Seemed they tried to snag Derek’s jacket.”

“From which we’ve now learned is one of his buttons,” Isaac chimed in, thankfully still sounding sane. “Apparently he went berserk on them. Didn’t go too well...

Scott eventually roared out in laughter.   
“Derek got Pixie-bukkake’d!” 

Kira and Danny couldn’t hide grins at this sentence, trying to push down their own fits of laughter. Lydia seemed to think it was childish getting her expression that quite obviously stated ‘why do I hang out with these freaks’, while Isaac simply cringed. Stiles joined in as he got the image stuck in his head too, the wolfed out beta getting a blast of pixie dust right in the face.

Speaking of, Derek just pouted as he hugged Stiles’ bag to his chest, almost like a teddy bear before flopping himself back down with the group. He seemed to take a deep breath before grinning at the human.

“They smell of you, kind of like cinnamon.”

All eyes in the room went to his face, for once, jaw dropping, utterly speechless for one of the only times in his life. The laughing quickly returned from the group. 

“I… I just washed them, it’s the detergent,” he muttered, not that anyone seemed to be listening. Derek’s smile simply grew though, he just looked… soft and grateful. It was such a strange sight, but Stiles couldn’t help eventually crumbling under it.

It was nice, not to have accusatory eyes and sharp words attacking him for something he thought was a genuine gesture of friendliness, not being snapped at for being the recipient of the trousers. Nice, but really weird. He just squirmed from the overall reaction, heat rising in his face, from what he only assumed was from the laughter of everyone around him. But his lips curled up into a soft smile as he stared at the floor, waiting for the raucous giggling to subside.

“So, yeah, turns out there is a way for werewolves to get drunk,” Isaac managed to force out as everyone died down. “Not as of yet sure if I’m glad I wasn’t joining them earlier or not.”

“Well, that’s all well and good, but if it’s only those two affected,” Stiles paused, looking over at the two bespelled weres, Scott seeming to poke fun at Derek’s eye brow for some reason, the latter still not having let go of Stiles’ bag. “Why are we all in the giggling personal space invading attitude?”

Danny shrugged with a smirk. “It seemed the best way to deal with it, just going with the flow and joining the fun and games.”

“Who said games?!” Scott suddenly perked up, very much like a sugar-addled puppy. Or drunken teen. Stiles was suddenly very much aware of why he hadn’t wanted to talk about what happened at Deaton’s. 

“Oh my God! We need to get out games consoles! Derek you’d totally love it, so fun and a way to take out your aggression!”  
“I’m not that aggressive!” Derek threw back, but suddenly dropped the bag, launching himself at Scott and they rolled on the floor like young pups. All the while both of them giggling like little kids and the others watching on with bemused or almost embarrassed expression.

Stiles, however, was totally behind this. Scott like this was reminding him of when they got sugar-highs when they were younger. And this was the first time he’d really seen Derek let loose. Ever. Seriously, that genuine smile.

He burst out into a huge grin.

“Smash bros. and Mario Kart it is!”  
________________________________________

Pack nights normally were quite fun. But this had certainly taken the cake. It was like some huge slumber party as they hooked up numerous consoles Scott had somehow managed to lug over during his post-pixie encounter. It was absolutely hilarious seeing Derek trying to handle a controller, screaming at the TV when things didn’t go his way like a teenager. They’d ordered pizza, about twice as much as usual though (apparently pixie-dust gave werewolves the munchies), and the entire session went well into the night. 

At some point, Lydia had excused herself. She’d been having fun with the others, and when Stiles actually checked the time of her departure, it was midnight and they’d been playing the same game for about five hours! Isaac left not too long after that when Danny tried to engage the group in spin the bottle with the intention of getting Scott and Derek to at least strip their shirts (Stiles felt kind of bad, since Ethan, Danny hadn’t really had a ‘meaningful’ relationship, having to resort to this made him feel kind of upset for the guy). That plan falling through, he’d left at about one in the morning. And so soon only Scott, Kira and Stiles were left with Derek.

Considering most nights were called to curfew at around 10:30, having their first leaver so late was fairly astounding. To be fair though, the leaders of the evening, Scott and Derek seemed fit and ready to pull an all-nighter. Stiles had seen Scott like this maybe once at a party when they were sixteen, summer before junior year and all the crazy shit in Beacon Hills with werewolves, and more werewolves fell upon them. 

It was a simple teenage ‘my parents aren’t here, let’s get drunk’ shindig. A little freaked out, Stiles had maybe had two drinks overall that night, Scott had gone way overboard however, he’d carried him home in a complete stupor, the entire time hearing his best friend going on about how much he loved him (like a brother) and other drunken, clichéd slurs.

It was so fun.

Seeing Derek legitimately enjoying himself, however, just seemed to resonate with Stiles. That rugged face broke out into a full on smile, seeing the laughter lines freshly creasing on his forehead. 

“Dereeeek,” Scott called teasingly, breaking out in loud giggles as the bottle stopped, pointing straight to the beta.

Wriggling in his seat a little, he was thoughtful before nodding and putting on a Cheshire grin. 

“Alright, truth,” he exclaimed, suddenly the rest of the group slipping into concentrating expressions. What the hell could they ask Derek Hale about?

The idea popped into Stiles’ head easily. Seeing him grinning and joining in with the childish enjoyment just got him wondering. 

“What exactly do you do for fun?”

Eyebrows were raised and Kira even gave a curious hum. At least Stiles wasn’t the only one interested in knowing this answer. Derek however simply looked confused for a few moments, as if the concept of fun was something he’d never even experienced (it really wouldn’t have surprised him if that was actually the case).

Slowly, Derek hunched his shoulders up in answer. “I dunno, I work out, I read, do stuff about town,” he explained, Lydia simply laughing in response, Scott soon joining in, but Stiles wasn’t accepting it.

“No, come on, like, really, what do you do to entertain yourself without us, before us even, like, before you came back to Beacon Hills,” he rambled, hoping to try and earn more of a response, though perhaps pushing the subject a little far. “What about Teenage Derek, what did he do for entertainment?”

Stiles realised he’d crossed a line as Derek was soon biting his lip and hesitating to respond. Everyone knew about all the stuff with Paige and the horror that was Kate Argent. Those thoughts were probably the most prominent when he was asked about his past. Stiles wished they weren’t.

“Actually, it would still be the same.” Or maybe Stiles was just over thinking everything. Confused eyes were narrowed at Derek and again he lift his shoulders, probably wondering why that answer wasn’t good enough. 

“It’s difficult for werewolves to blend in… most of the time,” he motioned to Scott, who suddenly beamed at the prospect of being the odd one out. “Hell, aside from Basketball, I was barely allowed to join sports clubs at school from fear of being caught out. Even that was a stretch. We just kept to ourselves really. So, I read, I work out, I do errands around town.”

That was quite possibly the saddest thing he’d heard come out of Derek’s mouth, and considering a lot of the shit he’d gone through, that was saying something. Maybe it was just the Pixie Dust over-emphasising his emotions. He wasn’t sure, but it got his mind whirring.

“Alright, who’s next?” Derek perked up quickly and with werewolf strength, span the bottle so fast it could’ve gone into outer space.  
________________________________________  
The pack eventually all made their way out of the loft, Stiles had to give Scott a ride home (and by proxy, Kira, considering the whole dating thing) As the Dust wore off, Scott was tripping over himself and they’d left Derek in what Stiles would describe a party-coma state, flopped over his couch and snoring loudly.

The minute he got home, though, Stiles basically did the same on his bed. His mind was still buzzing from Derek’s answer and by the morning, he’d formulated a plan. Secretly calling it ‘Unsour the Sourwolf’.

This wasn’t an undertaking he wanted to do alone. But it would be a little difficult convincing Scott it was a good idea. Pixie Dust apparently came with the deep feeling of shame and regret that only the hardest of Alcoholics could ignore.

“He will literally murder you if you even suggest it,” Scott groaned down the phone, likely the closest he’d ever come to sounding hungover. “Pixie’s caught him off guard yesterday and practically doused him in it for him to get into that state. He’s not going to willingly want to do this.”

Stiles’ plan was simple. Acquire the jar of Pixie Dust that Deaton kept in the practice, throw enough in Derek’s face to get him a little bit high, enough to let them throw a party for him, and then watch as the werewolf actually enjoyed himself for once. He couldn’t explain exactly why he wanted to see Derek in that mood, but the notion of the wolf being happy was just… awesome! He wanted to not be scowled at for making a joke, have him be like a normal guy for once.  
Well, normal was relative, with Pixie Dust involved. 

Admittedly, the initial notion of simply throwing it in Derek’s face and surprising him… he could practically see the look of disappointment on his dad’s face from hearing about that. The thought of it made him feel incredibly dirty. So, he’d made a compromise.

“Ugh, alright. I’ll ask if he’s game, spoil sport,” he grumbled mockingly. “I need to head around there anyway, I forgot my bag last night.”

“Do all of us a favor and wait until the next pack night before asking,” Scott hummed, sounding like he was just going to go back to bed. “He might see this as you insulting him and throw you through that hole in his wall…”

“He really needs to fix that,” Stiles mused, but quickly shook his head. “Wait, what about my bag.”

“Buy a new one.” Obviously wanting the end of this conversation, Scott hung up after exclaiming those four simple words.

Rude.

________________________________________

It felt so weird. Having a different bag felt like having a limb replaced and it hadn’t quite fit in yet. Plus the gaudy green color. He’d gone out with Lydia who happened to want a shopping buddy over the weekend and she’d helped him pick it out (along with exactly 9 dresses, 4 tops, 2 skirts and a bra.).

However, he’d gone along with the desires of Scott and not spoken to Derek throughout the week, nothing new really, Derek only texted him if it was an emergency. He entered the loft, first one there for once, which was a surprise. The gaudy green bag containing a few party things just in case, and a plastic bag swinging a little recklessly in his grip, containing rubber gloves and the (rather large and full) jar of sparkling powder.

A little too sure of himself, he snapped on the gloves and rummaged around the bag, carefully unsealing the large jar and making sure not to get even the slightest speck of it on himself. He licked his lips softly as he lifted it up—

“What’re you doing here?”

Stiles screamed, hearing the familiar, low drawl of Derek behind him, but as per usual, not being too good at dealing with sneak attacking werewolves.

He whirled around mid-cry and threw the opened jar forward, watching in actual terror as he bathed Derek in sparkles. A good three-quarters of the jar had been emptied out onto him and despite being rather pretty, the sight of Derek’s glare through the mist let him know he’d done bad. Very very bad.  
“Stiles…” Derek growled in a very predatory and dangerous tone, obviously speaking through his fangs. “What did you just do?”

“Uh,” Stiles stuttered and stammered as he put the jar down while the dust faded to the ground and into Derek’s skin. The wolf stalked forward slowly, with which he took an equal amount of steps back. “Oh… y’know, might’ve… sort of just… thrown about maybe a jar full of Pixie dust on you.”

Derek’s eyes glowed that dangerously cold blue, certainly not looking pretty in this situation as he ended up pressed against the wall. “I. Am going. To kill you.”  
________________________________________  
It was a rather gruesome sight.

Derek had shoved his whole hand into Stiles’ back and ripped out his spine, along with his skull, leaving his body to crumple on the ground.

“Fatality!”

“Dude!” Stiles yelled in disbelief. Derek had burst out laughing. A werewolf that was off his ass on pixie dust was better than him at Mortal Kombat. Something about that whole sentence just seemed oh so wrong.

Sometime during their matches, though, they’d gathered an audience of the rest of the pack. It had taken a few moments for Stiles to convince Scott that he hadn’t tricked Derek into inhaling the magic powder, thankfully being backed up by the beta how Stiles had just been caught off guard and it was an accident. 

Drunk Derek was such a good bro (he might even replace Scott)!

Soon enough though, calls had been made, people had been invited over, and with Derek’s explicit and not at all influenced permission, they’d had the Lacrosse team, most of Lydia’s friends and some stragglers and crashers at the loft, music playing, people chatting, frankly a fairly calm atmosphere compared to the last party they’d held here.

They’d set up the Xbox to the TV and it was supposed to be a bunch of multiplayer games going on, but Stiles refused to let Derek leave until he’d won at MK. They’d been here for around an hour. Seriously. A Drunk werewolf. Who’d never played video games before. What was happening?!

Eventually, he’d been wrestled away from the controls and Derek had gotten pulled into various conversations with lots of different people. While Stiles hung out with Scott as he usually did (and so by association, Kira), he couldn’t help but keep watch over Derek. It was refreshing, seeing Derek genuinely smiling, laughing, making friends with people he barely knew, rather than baring his fangs at them.

Stiles felt proud that he had brought out this side of Derek (completely by accident, too).

________________________________________  
The night went on, and all too soon the crowd started to thin out, dwindling to the crashers, to the pack, then slowly but surely, ending with Derek and Stiles.

Just chatting. Neither of them in any major peril, neither threatening to kill the other (without an actual threat behind it, although Stiles was mouthing off a little to Derek who’d miraculously picked up Halo like a fish to water). They were just hanging out, being friendly, again much like Stiles and Scott were. Chatting about different things, stuff Derek had never spoken about with them before… ever.

It was 2 am, the pair of them still staring at the screen until a scream of ‘nooooo’ peeled out from Stiles’ mouth and the results screen came up. It had been some time since he’d pulled a late night gaming session with anyone, and it had ended in a crushing defeat. And once more, just to rub salt in the wounds, drunk werewolf who had never played games.

“So, there was a time when basketball was cool in Beacon Hills?” Stiles queried as Derek went on about his career as the school’s team captain. “How’d you manage that one? At least you don’t burst a ball with claws in lacrosse with the aggression.”

“You’d be surprised how easy it is to control your anger in a game that doesn’t have contact,” Derek chuckled lowly.

His high had slowly been coming down over the last hour or so, Stiles was just making the most of it while he did. And at some point, Derek had picked up Stiles’ bag again and was still holding it just as close as before.

“Also can’t imagine you being like a secret geek. You seriously had superman underwear?”

“Hey, I’ve seen your Avengers ones. You compare a pair with the man of steel’s logo on it to your pair that actually has Tony Stark on them?”

Stiles scoffed loudly. “Technically, they can both be counted as men of steel, you know that right?” He taunted.

“Someone’s obviously not a DC guy.”

The two of them laughed a little longer before Stiles started to yawn. Only having human stamina sucked, especially when he wasn’t exactly the most in shape guy in the world.

“Bit late, you gonna be alright getting home?” Derek asked as he put the controller down and looked at Stiles with concerned eyes. As the human took the look in, he frowned a little, bringing the same look out from the beta. “What?”

“Was just kinda hoping,” Stiles mumbled, kicking his feet a little. “It’s been nice not being awkward with you, but when this is over, we’re gonna go back to how we normally are, and I dunno if I like that.” 

He’d actually enjoyed hanging out with Derek Hale. The man for whom he’d coined the term Sourwolf. It was a strange notion, but he liked seeing the not angsty, not-brooding side of the werewolf. “Just wish I knew what made it different so that you don’t hate me when you’re…”

“I don’t hate you,” Derek interrupted, looking at Stiles with concerned eyes. It had obviously caught both of them off guard, the human’s expression must’ve given it away as Derek was soon looking down into the bag full of his clothing. 

“It’s not the high talking, honest, I don’t. You’re a nice guy Stiles, I just…” He huffed a little and pulled the bag closer. “You just confuse me and I dunno how to act around you with that in mind. But I certainly don’t hate you.”

Stiles legitimately didn’t know how to respond to that. It had now been twice in the last week, a record if there was one worth keeping. But considering how often they’d been glaring daggers, one-upping each other and sniping insults back and forth, for Derek to openly admit that. Wow, that had caught him off guard.

Derek gripped the bag a little bit tighter. “Sorry. I should try to show it a bit more often.” He shrugged a little and shuffled the bag a little bit before looking up with questioning eyes. “Uhm… do you mind if I keep the bag for a little bit?”

Stiles blinked a little, he did kind of need his bag, carrying his books and stuff. The weekend wasn’t too important admittedly, but just a night. But… “Why?”

Derek flushed a bright red. “I… I like how it smells. Cinnamon and fruity. Like you, it’s relaxing.”  
Stiles was soon also blushing wildly. And for the third time now, speechless.


	3. Truth Spell

“We’ve got a problem.”

Those four words seemed to have haunted Derek’s life for quite a while now. He’d lost track of how long it had been since he led an almost peaceful life. Especially after he’d come across Scott McCall. Scott and Stiles had been sophomores when this all started and yet somehow they were still in high school. He could only hope that they would take their ‘problems’ with them.

He turned towards the loft door, catching the scent of Scott, Stiles and Isaac, and expected to see at least one of them in torn, bloody clothing, or smelling of ash and gunfire or… something. But everything looked fine. Scott just had his worried puppy face on. They were silent, as if expecting Derek to ask what was wrong, but without much provocation to do so, he didn’t see the need. He just stared at them with raised eyebrows and a look of confusion.

It took a moment, but no one seemed to understand his lack of desire to ask. But apparently it was routine, and his almighty alpha wasn’t going to just tell him, like he should, and so he heaved a sigh and the features on his face creased together as he pinched the bridge of his nose. 

“What’s wrong?” He grumbled before looking up expectantly.

Scott was normally not one to beat around the bush, and Stiles was usually the one to lead him in circles with incredibly unhelpful sarcasm. To have the loud mouthed teenager answer instantly, straight to the point and not a hint of snark in his tone was unsettling.

“There’s a recently arrived druid girl at school; no one seems to have noticed but us. Don’t know if I pissed her off, but she hit me with a truth spell.”

Derek didn’t think he’d heard Stiles be so blunt and sincere in one sentence. Not an ounce of sarcasm or wit, just straight to the point. 

“Yeah, that’s a truth spell alright.” He answered, turning to look at Scott, again with questioning eyes. “Why is this a problem?”

Again there was silence for a moment, Scott making gestures to Stiles as if he was going to die. “Did you not hear what he just said? Or at least the way he said it? He won’t stop talking like that and it’s kind of freaking me out. He’s not Stiles like this.”

“Good,” Derek answered, turning away from the non-issue. “I like him better when he’s not constantly yammering on about nothing or acting like he always knows best.”

“No you don’t,” Stiles instantly answered in reply, causing all eyes in the room to turn on him with a confused look while he stood completely straight faced and shrugged. “While under the influence of pixie dust, you told me you liked me but just found me hard to understand.” 

Derek went wide eyed and could actually feel heat rushing up to his cheeks (judging from Scott’s squirming, he was having the same sensation of embarrassment). Since that night, they’d not spoken about that incident, it was like an unwritten rule. But of course, truth spells negated everything in favour of letting the affected give a truthful answer. 

“Which, considering you don’t know me any other way, you like me being sarcastic and challenging.”

Derek hated truth spells with a passion. Also pixies.

There was an awkward silence floating around the room for a moment as both Derek and Scott tried to shrug off the memories of that awful night (no matter what anyone would say to him, it was an awful night and no one could convince Derek otherwise). Taking a deep breath, Derek narrowed his eyes at the three of them. 

“Why have you brought him here exactly?” He questioned. “I’m not the one to really go to about spells. I’m a werewolf, I rip my problems to pieces.” 

With a flick of his wrist, his claws snapped out and raised his eyebrows. “I can do that if you want.”

“No no no!” Scott called, actively moving in front of Stiles to protect him, as if Derek would actually go through with it. Said (usually) talkative teen had just stood there as he knew that, but his own alpha hadn’t been able to see it. Derek rolled his eyes and retracted the sharp claws just as quickly. 

“We needed to drop him off somewhere he won’t be alone.”

Derek glanced over at Isaac with his eyebrows raised. “He doesn’t seem to be doing anything important,” he said bluntly, raising a hand and motioning to the other beta. “Why can’t he stay with you?”

Isaac held his hands up innocently. 

“Can’t. Packing,” he answered, seeming incredibly sincere, and his heart rate was steady. But, packing? His expression must’ve asked ‘for what?’ because Isaac continued. “Ms. McCall’s taking me to look at a college for the weekend. Staying the night and dunno what’s gonna happen so need to be ready for anything. Can’t be rushing around and watching Stiles like a pet.”

Now Derek was confused. “Then why are you here?”

“Simple, knew you wouldn’t be cool with this, wanted to see how you took it,” Isaac smirked, his sarcasm somewhat refreshing, considering the silent Stilinski. “And now have some blackmail on you, even better.”

Derek snarled, his eyes glowing yellow, but it was an idle threat. Neither backed down, so instead Derek just averted his attention. 

“Why not just take him to Deaton?” He asked bluntly. “He’s the one who’s good with this kind of crap.”

“They did.” Stiles pitched in again. “Scott said he needed me to be out of the way while they worked on a counter spell as I kept looking at the ingredients and talking about all the side effects that could happen from them. I’ve been doing research on it ever since the pixie incident. It was making Scott uneasy saying that certain spells could eventually make me mute, physically remove my mouth or basically give me Tourette’s syndrome.”

Derek was impressed, it almost sounded like the usual Stiles, just a bit more helpful in his explanations and actually getting to the point rather than skirting around it. Scott’s blunt look said it all really. He was worried and silently asked Derek to babysit the bespelled Stiles while they sorted out a counter-spell. He’d have asked why not leave him with his father, but the reasons for that seemed fairly obvious, he’d likely have the sheriff asking so many questions which Stiles would have to answer truthfully.

He heaved a heavy sigh. 

“I’m still not seeing a problem,” he muttered, but lost his defensive stance, again turning around and motioning for Stiles to sit on the couch. “But be quick about it or I’ll start demanding pay.”

Thanking Derek, Scott and Isaac left and that left him with the oddly silent Stiles. Which lasted for all of thirty seconds. 

“I’ve always wondered how you can afford such a nice place. Do you even have a job?” It sounded truthful at least, but Derek was beginning to see a slight problem.  
________________________________________

“Hey Stiles, Scott.”

“Oh, hey Lu,” Stiles had answered to the girl in passing before turning his attention back to Scott. “Seriously Bro, you absolutely have to watch Star Wars before going to college, how else will you talk nerdy to—“

“Who was that?” Scott interrupted, pointing after the black haired girl whom had just practically floated past them.

Stiles seemed confused by the question though. 

“Who was…?” He blinked and looked back briefly, turning back to Scott and pointing back to the strange girl. “Lucinda?” 

Scott nodded slowly, Stiles seeming to act as if it was the obvious answer in the world. 

“She’s Lucinda, y’know she’s…” He paused as he struggled to find the words. “… Lucinda…” Going wide eyed, Stiles panicked and turned to try and see her in the crowd of students. “Dude, who the hell was that?!”

“Lucinda, apparently,” Scott replied, earning himself an unimpressed look from Stiles before they both looked into the crowd, but every trace of her had disappeared. “More importantly, how did you know who she was?”

“How did she know who we were,” Stiles interrupted, looking almost petrified. Almost instantly the two of them had phones pulled out and were texting between the pack. Except for Derek because he didn’t come to school so it wasn’t really his problem. Stiles and Danny seemed to be the only ones affected by this strange girl’s appearance (sometimes Stiles seriously considered becoming a werewolf).

Throughout the day, all eyes had been on her and trying to figure the confusion out, though when lunch came around, Lydia had come through for them once again.

“She’s a druid.” Sitting down, those were the first words out of her lips as she joined the pack at the table. They looked at her with a mix of shock and confusion until she shrugged her arms. “I was paired with her in biology and asked her outright.”

Stiles bugged out from this news. “Do you have absolutely no concern for your life?” He hissed out. “What if she… I don’t know, what druids can do? Turn you into a frog or something.”

Lydia rolled her eyes. “You’re thinking of witches Stiles, that’s seriously narrow minded. She wasn’t going to do anything in public, she’d expose herself,” she replied in a know-it-all tone, one that had initially drawn Stiles in, but had of late begun to get on his nerves.

“You don’t know that,” he countered. “She infiltrated her way into the school without even trying. What’s stopping her from heating up your insides to boiling point and then erasing you from existence?”

“She’s come into a high school, Stiles,” Danny joined in, almost copying the tone Lydia had been using. “I don’t necessarily think she’s going to be going around killing people.”

“Uh, first off, why are you all ganging up on me? I’m just being careful,” Stiles huffed, resting his arms on the table and leaning in before continuing. “Second, do we need to fill you in on what was happening with the Darach again?” 

Again, answered with a pair of rolled eyes, Stiles grunted a little, why was no one else getting upset about this? There was another unexplained, potentially evil druid in Beacon Hills. Trying to integrate herself into everything with magic! Innocent until proven guilty? That seemed pretty guilt proving!

“Hey, just calm down,” Scott too joined the conversation, about time, now they’d start getting something planned. “No one’s dead, nothing extreme’s happened, just keep an eye out for now.”

“What?! No! Unacceptable!” Stiles suddenly burst out with, earning some turned heads from the lunch room, including some glares from some of the pack, the rest a little shocked at his rage.

“Stiles, seriously, chill out,” Scott said, again keeping his voice down. “What’s gotten you so riled up about this?”

“You’re not worried about this?” Stiles quickly snapped back. “We don’t know what she’s capable of and you’re just gonna let her run around doing what she wants.” 

No reply. He looked at each of them, begging for a reply, Kira and Isaac so far not having given their two cents simply averting their gaze as he turned to them. “Oh, okay, fine. I’ll be the only rational one then.”

Huffing, Stiles pushed himself up from the table and stormed off.

“The hell’s he so pissy about?”

________________________________________

Stiles blinked blankly up at Derek as he finished talking, the werewolf looking back at him with analyzing eyes, covering his mouth with one hand before they narrowed slightly.

“Well… I’m pretty sure we figured out why you’re the one hit by a truth spell,” he muttered. 

Stiles squirmed on the couch a little uncomfortably. It was like he didn’t feel right in his own skin. Derek listened to Stiles’ heart beat steadily, no sense of urgency or upset. But he just looked… wrong.

Derek was so used to Stiles throwing his limbs around, shouting and throwing random if not somewhat endearing and ridiculous insults (Sour wolf, Stiles had literally called him it once and yet the name stuck out in his head as the most prominent). But he was just sitting there, staring with scared yet open eyes, lacking a lot of their shine and mischief. It was depressing.

“Stiles,” the human looked up when Derek said his name. “How’re you feeling?”

Stiles squirmed about nervously on the couch before looking at his feet. “Kinda scared.”

Derek had seen Stiles scared before but he’d never admitted it, at least not to Derek, quite possibly the emotionally strongest person he knew, considering Stiles’ past and dealings with the supernatural.

“Scott’s gonna fix this,” Derek said comfortingly, giving a thin smile and putting his hand on Stiles’ shoulder. “You know he will, and we’ve dealt with so much worse.  
________________________________________

“Truth spells are incredibly specific,” Scott groaned as he marched back and forth the flat. Stiles’ eyes followed him like an intrigued animal. Derek just wanted to go out into the woods, or wherever this girl was hiding, drag her ass here and get her to fix it. Stiles might’ve calmed down, but the thoughts in his head were still racing, and without the filter to hide the truth, he was constantly spouting incredibly unnerving thoughts.

“I think it would be cool to see how I react with Pixie Dust now.”

And for the love of God, Derek wished Stiles would stop mentioning that. 

“So, I’m trying to get this straight,” Derek murmured. “Stiles won’t stop telling the truth unless he gives the answer to this girl’s question? Which, of course, we don’t have.”

“I think it kinda goes without saying what it is,” Scott ran his hands through his hair and turned to face Stiles. “Seriously, I don’t think he can currently describe exactly how much of a deal Stiles made out of this, he looked like he was going to attack someone, good thing he didn’t have his bat.”

“Or that I’m not a werewolf,” Stiles piped up, it was true, so it at least earned a smile from Derek.

“Well, if you figured it out, have you even asked him?” Scott wondered.  
Derek nodded with a huff. “It’s… inadvisable,” he murmured. “He really doesn’t want to answer it.”

“So, let me get this straight. He can only tell the truth until he answers that question, but he can stop himself from answering it.”

“I don’t want to answer it,” Stiles muttered, seemingly to himself, but he knew Scott and Derek could hear him.

Derek drew a deep breath before kneeling before Stiles, getting to eyes level. “Why do you not want to answer?” He queried.

Stiles bit his lip softly, then a little tighter. Soon he was trembling.

“What’s going on?” Scott panicked, getting closer as Stiles fisted his hands into his jeans.

“He’s trying not to answer” Derek grunted, before shaking his head and again reaching to softly grip Stiles’ shoulder. “Okay, don’t hurt yourself, you don’t have to answer.” 

Stiles instantly stopped shaking and sighed, falling forward and bumping his forehead into Derek’s shoulder.

Scott was frowning. Derek could practically smell the panic and worry dripping from the alpha, but there was really nothing they could do for now.

Derek didn’t like feeling powerless in these kinds of situations. Especially with Stiles. Stiles was human. Humans were easy to understand, to help. Yet Derek couldn’t help.

He soon noticed Stiles’ heavy breathing against him and he creased his eyebrows, quickly looking back at Scott (who had returned to his pacing, texting Deaton to see if he had any other information), before focusing on Stiles.

“What’s wrong?” He asked quietly.

“Nothing,” Stiles replied, much to Derek’s confusion. But as if expecting it, Stiles looked up with a shy look in his eyes. “You just… smell nice.”

Derek instantly felt a flush rise through him and could practically feel his cheeks going red. And as if his embarrassment wasn’t enough, he knew Scott had heard by the clattering of his dropped phone.

Derek was actually beginning to miss the old Stiles right now, the boy was so blunt when unable to hide behind his sarcasm.  
With a cough, Derek shifted back a little, not seeming uncomfortable, but just to give some space between them. 

“Is there anything we can do to get you to answer?” He asked.

Stiles was thoughtful for a moment before nodding. 

“I don’t want to tell you guys,” he began. “It’s difficult to explain, but, I think I might be able to explain to her with someone nearby.”

Derek nodded and looked over at Scott. “Any idea where she is?” Scott shrugged in answer, as if he expected any different. “Then… I guess Stiles is telling the truth throughout the weekend.”

And no one needed to say anything for them all to feel unnerved by that notion.  
________________________________________  
By the Sunday afternoon, Derek had had enough of Stiles' questions and thoughts. He knew it wasn’t the boy’s thoughts, but, with Scott, Lydia and Danny over for the evening, Stiles had been looking between the two werewolves and suddenly burst out with…

“I sometimes wonder if werewolves have knots.”

While Danny snorted back a laugh, Scott and Derek instantly flinched. Scott swore as he’d dropped the bottle of (one of Derek’s) beer he was holding, hearing it shatter upon impact. Lydia made a disgusted noise, essentially summing up all the reactions in the room.

Stiles frowned. “Sorry,” he whispered, almost impossible to hear, except for those with werewolf hearing.

“How can you stop yourself from answering one simple question but not filter through everything that goes through your head?” Derek snapped. He knew it wasn’t Stiles’ fault, but this was really ridiculous now.

There’d been some gems over the weekend, lots of them seeming to involve werewolves and sex. Such as; ‘Do werewolves scent mark each other’, ‘Do alpha’s pick one mate or can everyone be their bitch’, and (one Danny had given a far too knowing smirk at) ‘Can werewolves control themselves when they’re having sex during the full moon.’

According to Scott, he’d been asking a lot of these questions when sleeping over at his place last night and so they’d decided to dump him on Derek for the evening before they got the witch and ended this nightmare. But, seriously, why all the werewolf sex questions?  
For the first time, Derek had almost begged the pack not to leave him alone, he didn’t want to deal with this crap. But before the sun had gone down it was him and Stiles and the low hum of the TV.

Derek prepared himself for an onslaught of questions within literally the first five minutes. No actually, he did one better. He beat Stiles to it.

“What the hell’s with all these sex questions?” Derek almost snapped. He hadn’t meant to, but it was the overall frustration that had gathered throughout the weekend.

Stiles had winced at first but answered with a shrug. 

“Curiosity,” he answered bluntly. To which Derek wanted to call BS on, but that was kind of difficult to do when the person in question was under a truth spell.

Derek simply furrowed his brow as he tried to make sense of the answer, but really, he wasn’t sure he wanted to understand it. From the look on Stiles’ face, he wanted to just drop the conversation. Derek just shook his head and turning to watch the TV with a slight huff.

“Sorry,” Stiles murmured after a few moments. “It’s really hard to keep thoughts in my head right now.”

Derek’s lips quirked into a frown, he knew it wasn’t Stiles’ fault. This whole situation was frustrating for all involved obviously. 

“It’s fine,” the werewolf answered, getting up to get a glass of water.

“Did you ever want to turn me?”

Derek stopped in his tracks and turned back to Stiles with a confused look. “What?”

Stiles fidgeted. “When you were an Alpha, did you ever want to turn me?”

Where had this come from? Genuinely concerned, Derek forgot his venture to the kitchen and returned to the couch. “I…” It was a difficult question to answer when he really thought about it. He wasn’t even sure he wanted to answer it. “Is this just a way to divert conversation or…”

Stiles took on a thoughtful expression. “When Peter was Alpha and looking for Scott, he’d offered me the bite.”

What?!

Derek’s eyes flashed an icy blue and he growled at this news. Stiles quickly threw his hands up to try and calm Derek down.

“I said no!” Stiles continued, perhaps a bit too fast. “I didn’t want the bite. And to be fair, all this shit that’s happened aside, I still don’t…” 

Seeing Derek start to relax, Stiles did as well, squirming about in his seat. “I mean, no, I don’t like being the weak human guy, but I still feel like I can help you guys even like this, Scott, Lydia, you…”

Stiles took a soft breath. “But, I’ve wondered for quite some time. You chose Isaac because of his father, Erica because of her seizures, Boyd because of his loneliness. Did you ever think of me to be a member of your pack?”

Derek didn’t know which questions made him feel more uncomfortable, the werewolf anatomy or, well, this. Because, honestly…

“For a brief moment,” Derek mumbled after a deep breath, raising a hand up to run it through his hair. “You and Scott, you had your own pack and I just knew Scott was a lost cause without incentive. If I had you, I’d have Scott too.”

“But you’re a huge gamble,” he continued, sitting down next to Stiles again. Why did this feel so wrong to admit? Just, to admit Stiles was a way to get to Scott, like Stiles was just the throw away. But Stiles was being honest with him, being the same just seemed fair, but the truth was so hard to admit.

“You and Scott have such a strong bond, I even think if I’d turned you, you’d be more likely to break away and return to him and his pack.” Derek shuffled uncomfortably as he finished. Seriously, Stiles would’ve been an interesting addition to the pack to say the least. But he’d never actually thought about actually having him in the pack until they were around the same level in the Scott’s group.

Had Derek turned Stiles, would he have just bitten him, grabbed Scott, then leave Stiles to his own whims? That thought was suddenly a guilty thought as he curled up a little. Wow, the truth was such a painful thing when he really thought about it. In the last year, Derek had done some fairly awful things, and yet, been forgiven for so much.

Stiles hesitated next to Derek before reaching out slowly, Stiles’ hand gently going to the werewolf’s shoulder.

“What about after, like with the alpha pack and stuff, what about then?” Stiles pressed onwards, simple curiosity ruling himself right now.  
Derek looked at him like he was crazy though.   
“Definitely not,” he replied far too quickly. “You saw all the death around you right? You were far too involved with all of this business as it was, I didn’t want to put you in any more danger than was necessary!

“It was my problem to deal with, well, mine and Scott’s, but,” Derek led off and shook his head, it felt better to admit that one afterwards, before he wanted to for selfish reasons, but afterwards, they’d all become some… strange, disjointed family. And he wanted to protect them.  
When he looked up, he saw a warm smile on Stiles’ features.

“I wish I’d known you when you were younger,” He said, much to Derek’s surprise and confusion. “When we saved you from Mexico, and you were all, cute and adorable baby Derek, you just seemed so more calm and collected, still funny and smart, still so…” Stiles looked a little lost for words briefly, though, at this point, Derek was red in the face. Were it not for the spell, he was sure he’d feel a little more teased at this point.

Quickly though he came back and nodded, smiling brightly at Derek.

“Human.”

There was a silence between them after that word. Not uncomfortable or awkward, Derek just took it in, and possibly for the first time since the fire, genuinely smiled without hiding anything.

“Thank you,” he replied after a few moments. Stiles nodded in reply.

He suddenly frowned a little though and squirmed uncomfortably.

“I’m scared of her.” Stiles was looking down at his feet. Derek was unsure as to what was meant at first, but it clicked suddenly in his head.

“Why are you—“

“The last time there was someone using magic in the school, I ended up possessed.” 

The Nogitsune. Derek’s eyes widened as he started to piece things together. It had just been bad luck and nobody blamed Stiles in the slightest, but those events had fit together so seamlessly that it could be seen like cause and effect.

Stiles suddenly went rigid, blinking a little but soon shaking his head and relaxing. “Oh… Wow, I was expecting there to be more of a light show. That’s it?”

Derek blinked in confusion “Wait, what?”

“Geez, are you paying attention?” Stiles huffed, rolling his eyes with the tone of snark that had been missing from his voice in the last three days. “I think the truth spell’s worn off, feeling so much better.”

“That was the answer?” Derek queried, a shot of excitement running through him. “Wait, so what was the question?”

“Do I look like a mind reader? I thought you guys said you’d figured it out, idiot.” Derek suddenly wasn’t so sure if he wanted the normal Stiles back or not.

“Okay then, tell a lie.”

Stiles glanced down, looking thoughtful for a minute before smirking a little. “I’ve had gay thoughts about me and Scott having a threesome with Danny.”

Derek cringed in slight revulsion, Stiles bursting out with laughter. And it was the most beautiful sound.

“Well, at least your humours back.”

“Awww, did someone miss me.”

“Get out.”

“Wait, what? Dude, come on, it was a joke.”

“You can tell the truth now, go home.”

“Ugh, what the hell, Sourwolf. I hate you.”

“Liar.”


	4. Being Human

The next day, not even 12 hours later in fact, Derek had begun to realise he needed a sign that said ‘knock or somehow announce presence before entering.’ He was beginning to get overly annoyed at how people thought his home was free entry. So the sign (or perhaps maybe an actual lock) was definitely on his to do list.

Right now though, he had to deal with his alpha turning up at his front door with a bored looking witch at his side.

“Where’s Stiles?” Scott asked within five seconds of entry. No asking if Derek was okay or if anything happened. 

Seriously, he wasn’t the type to get bothered by this kind of thing, but he was beginning to suspect he was the pack’s doormat or something. In either case, he didn’t have to say anything before the witch caught his eyes and her bored expression turned into a smirk. She didn’t need telling, but apparently, Scott (the supposed true alpha) couldn’t figure it out.

“He left around midnight,” Derek answered bluntly, dressed in nothing but comfortable, almost pyjama shorts having only just woken up and ready to do his morning workout. “Stiles told me what was going on and the spell broke.”

Scott’s face practically cracked. In fact for a moment Derek was a little worried, something he’d never seen on Scott before. Absolute shock, maybe a little horror mixed in too (Derek wished he could take a picture of it actually). 

“He… told you?” he asked in disbelief. Derek gave a slow but curt nod in response. “But not me. He told you, but didn’t want to tell me?”

“Aww, it’s so adorable, he’s like a puppy!” the witch girl exclaimed, an air of almost condescension pouring off of her and bringing Derek crashing down from watching his alpha have a meltdown. He glared dead set on her and she simply let her grin expand into a full on Cheshire cat smile. 

“Ohhhh, someone’s mad at me. You got your friend back without much hassle, I don’t even know why I’m needed here now…”

“You’re not going anywhere,” Derek grunted, snapping his fingers to try and pull Scott out of a strangely out of character look of thought. Seriously, Scott trying to think, that just seemed messed up. “Mind giving us some privacy?”

“Uh… yeah, sure, I think I need to make a phone call,” Scott murmured slightly off-handed, reaching into his pocket and fumbling for his phone almost in a daze.

Derek kept his attention on the witch girl, fairly disarming with rose red lips and eyes as green as the forests. He raised his eyebrows at her, almost seeming bored. “Care to explain why you enjoyed torturing our friend?”

“Oh, more than a friend, almost like a brother as it seems,” she answered, seeming to pick the right answers straight out of the air. “Having the alpha stalk me all night was a pain, I need my beauty sleep y’know.”

“You cast a truth spell on one of our own without provocation,” Derek interrupted. “It was hardly uncalled for, one could see your actions as antagonistic.”

“Oh please, don’t give me that spiel,” she sighed, seeming quite put off, almost as if a teenager complaining about how her parents were ‘keeping her down’. “You didn’t see how he spoke about me, I’m not some wicked green, broomstick riding thing, and we’re seeking refuge. The nemeton…”

“I know about the nemeton,” Derek again brought a halt to her speech, bringing an almost scornful look from the girl. “You must see from his point of view though, you integrated yourself into a human school as if you’d been there for years, it’s one’s nature to be suspicious.”

“God, you sound just like my mother,” she practically hissed, bringing a slight twitch from Derek’s lips.

“Well, that answers my second question as to who ‘we’ are,” he said with a half-hearted scoff. “But you have to understand that our friend has reasons.”

“Reasons which I now won’t know because you stepped in,” she mused. Her grin went cat-like again and she stepped further into the room. “Curious, your alpha seemed almost stunned that you managed to get the answer out of him.”

“Why was he so scared of you?” It was easy to figure out given the answer, she pouted a little in response. “No, I’m not telling you what he said, and I swear, if you try to recast that spell on him, I will personally hunt you down and tear your throat out.”

“My, such harsh words. You wolves are so strange, caring about a human like that. Why, I’ve not seen a pack care for humans like that since…” She paused and her eyes widened a little. “Ohhh, I see.”

Derek scowled at her, it was like he was an open book to her, and for some reason it just got on his nerves. He didn’t like people being able to see through him and the barriers he had set up. But at the same time, that she seemed to figure out that not only he was a Hale, but she seemed to know of the original Hale pack intrigued him. Very few witches had had contact with them, and one this young couldn’t have known his mother personally.

“Tell me,” Derek queried. “What was your name again? I don’t wish to be overtly rude.”

“Lucinda,” she perked. “Nice to see you have some manners.”  
“Lucinda, I want to offer a deal.” Derek had obviously caught her attention, much like she had his. Good, that way he was almost certain it would work. “You seem to want to know why Stiles was so hostile at your being here, and I’ll tell you.”

“Would be nice,” Lucinda mused out loud, pressing a finger to her lips before looking at Derek with scepticism. “What would you ask in return?”

Derek took a long breath, feeling a little uncomfortable. But he saw it as an interesting opportunity for everything that occurred recently, and to learn more about someone who knew his family.

“I wish to meet with your mother.”

\--

Stiles never really understood why he and Danny hadn’t hung out too often.

Before he’d come out (pun not intended) about knowing of werewolves and the supernatural, Stiles had thought of Danny as a friend, but they never spoke too often, despite his attempts to do so (including one time he actually thought Danny wanted to take his V-card).

After they’d become pack members, they’d gotten together a little more often, token humanism and all, but still he couldn’t define them more as acquaintances. Since they both seemed to get the same grades though, his question for them to pair up for College applications had reached success. The last two weeks now they’d met at each-others houses on Wednesdays and Thursdays, order pizza, look through colleges nearby, colleges out of town, even some that were abroad until they’d both settled on places they agreed would be good for what they were aiming to study.

Surprising no one, Stiles had decided to follow in his father’s footsteps and knew he’d study criminology as his major. And yet still everyone treated him like he was so dense, along with some truly puzzling questions sometimes.

“So, those are definitely your choices?” Danny asked on the third week of their little meet up group.

Stiles nodded fervently with a grin adorning his features, all the excitement was starting to catch up with him, the launch forward into being an adult, and possibly the chance of getting away from all the supernatural hi-jinks. It would be a bit boring to start off with no doubt, but the increased chance of making it to his forties.

“Well, have you told Derek?” 

Here was the weird thing. Danny had been pushing Stiles with questions about Derek, who had conveniently been missing in the last week, but there was no sign of a struggle or gunfight, so they’d just assumed he’d gone to visit Cora. But it still made him uncomfortable that he’d gone AWOL. More so since everyone else had been questioning him about it.

Scott seemed ever persistent to find out what Stiles felt comfortable telling Derek and not him. He just didn’t want his best friend to worry. Derek had been the opportune candidate because, well, they’d kind of overshared a lot recently, and since he’d kept things that Derek wanted quiet, he hoped he’d get the same kindness.

“Not… yet,” he’d eventually replied. “Why would it even be something Derek needs to be told?”

Danny squirmed a bit, almost seeming uncomfortable before he looked at Stiles with determined eyes. 

“We need to have a talk about something,” he said bluntly.

A sense of dread and nausea came over him. When Danny was serious, he was either pissed off or… well, deadly serious. He’d never actually seen the latter.

The buzzing and custom ringtone for Scott’s number, muffled by his pocket, was a godsend. Whatever it was Danny wanted, it could wait.

Hopefully for a few years.

“Yooo, what’s up,” Stiles exclaimed loudly before turning so his back was facing Danny. He lowered his voice to just barely above breathing noise. “Dude, I owe you something massive. Danny’s just being—“

“Stiles, we have a major problem.” Scott sounded breathless and ragged, grunting as if he was carrying something heavy. “I need you to bring a bag of Derek’s stuff to Deaton’s clinic.”

That was a strangely specific request. “Scott, what’s going on?”

Before the alpha could answer, there was the noise of a scuffle and a click as the call went dead. Normally that meant either not to question it, or that something had suddenly gone very very wrong.

With the lack of knowing exactly where Scott was, Stiles hoped that it was the former.  
\--

Derek’s things - his stuff. The hell did Scott mean by that? His clothes? Shampoo? A secret chew toy? (He totally had to have one.) At least while doing this he could grab his bag back from Derek’s clutches. Yes, adorable and perfect mocking material that Derek found his scent relaxing, but wow. Derek using his bag as a teddy bear or something.

And what worried him more than the thoughts of Derek doing that were how little it actually bothered him.

Stiles found his bag underneath the pillow (again, cute and worrying) and started doing what he’d assumed Scott needed: used clothes and bed linen.

Stuffing it in the bag though, he couldn’t help but notice something flashing in the corner of his eye. Derek’s alarm system.

It was almost reflexive the pack knew to turn it on and off; Stiles had definitely set it back after he’d walked in.

In the silence of the loud building, suddenly a predatory growl rose in the air and slowly he looked about to see a huge wolf glaring down at him. Not a werewolf, or Peter’s terrifying wolfed out Alpha form. No, this was an actual fucking wolf.

As it stared Stiles down though, he did notice it’s eyes glow that terrifying blue color. Both beautiful in its own right, blue was his favorite after all. But in werewolf terms he knew what that meant. Maybe it was a shifter like Malia and a coyote. And suddenly that made it all the more terrifying.

“Niiiiice wolfy,” he hummed lowly, staggering to his feet and shifting the bag up his shoulders. He swallowed heavily - trying to calm down; wolves could smell fear, right? “Just gonna go now and…”

A loud bark tore through the air, the wolf baring its fangs and launching forward, howling at him like a guard dog would an intruder. Stiles knew there was no way to outrun it, but he’d escaped worse situations… just about.

He scrambled forward and veered around the lode bearers, hoping to confuse it and scamper past. He really began to doubt how much his luck was on his side however. The hulking beast bore down on him, almost tackling him to the ground but only managing to snag at his bag.

There was a loud rip and Stiles mentally groaned, if he survived he’d have to stick to that awful, gaudy bag Lydia picked out. Big if. But that wasn’t the most conscious thought right now.  
He almost blacked out on autopilot, tearing out of the loft and jamming the keys into the ignition of the jeep.

When he came to he was just outside the clinic. The wolf hadn’t followed him, just tore his bag apart and let him be.

With a shuddering breath, he rested his forehead on the steering wheel. Screw his bag, he was alive.

Maybe his luck wasn’t so terrible.  
________________________________________  
“You look like you just got mauled by a wild animal!”

“You’re getting more and more observant Scott, try not to let go of that.” Stiles had taken about 10 minutes to sit in his jeep to understand how close he’d come to… well, that. He was back on point sarcasm wise, so that was a good sign.

Scott wasn’t in the mood to reply to the sarcasm. Not even a roll of his eyes. Stiles was disappointed. “Where’s Derek’s stuff?” Scott asked after a moment, only to be shown the bed sheet. “Okay… Are you using that to carry his stuff in? Or is that seriously all you grabbed?”

“I tried, seriously,” Stiles vehemently protested. “First of all, I feel like a pervert for wanting to know, but… what the hell is this for?”

Stiles was led through to the back room of the animal practice, only to be greeted with Derek sat up on the steel table, looking almost alabaster as he sat naked on it. He was only barely covered by what looked like a doggy blanket (Stiles was able to shove off the laugh of irony) and curled up so as not to show himself off in all his glory.

“Well, uh… at least this’ll be better for him,” Stiles spoke up, knowing now probably wasn’t the time for humor because, well, because. He quickly wandered over to the shivering werewolf and hoisted the blanket up over Derek’s shoulders. “Heeeey, buddy. This better?” Expecting a bright flash of blue eyes in return, a growl, something Derek like, Stiles instead received a look he knew all too well from looking in the mirror.

Anxiety. It was clear and simple on Derek’s face. And it was terrifying. Stiles backed up quickly, his nerves starting to fire off on all sorts of alarms for ‘not good’.

“Dude, he’s having an anxiety attack,” Stiles hissed. “Why the fuck did you not tell me that?!”

His best friend seemed about as shocked as he was. “I didn’t know werewolves could have anxiety attacks,” Scott stammered back. “Especially Derek.” The two of them stared in silence for a few minutes, incredibly uncomfortable silence. “Should I make him count fingers?”

“That’s for dreaming and that one panic attack I had.” Stiles wasn’t sure Scott even paid attention, sometimes. “Anxiety is different, it’s finding yourself in situations you mentally don’t know how to cope with, you just kind of shut down for a while. Best thing we can do is let him come down on his own.”

The look on Scott’s face made it clear that he was unsure, but Stiles knew what he was talking about. He’d learnt to handle these ever since his sixth birthday and he didn’t want to embarrass himself in front of Batman.

“Hey, Derek, we’re just gonna be in the next room,” Stiles explained, moving a little closer to the elder werewolf. It was such a strange sensation, seeing Derek like this, his eyes with an almost child-like fear in them. “We’re just letting you calm down, okay? We’re there if you need us.”

When Derek nodded, slowly but surely, Stiles had to repress a very sudden urge to cuddle the poor guy. And it was surprisingly hard to beat down. With a small smile though, he pulled away from the table and followed Scott through to the reception area.  
The two of them took deep inhales and tried to take in the situation. But Stiles still hadn’t been informed. “So… What happened?”

Scott just shrugged. “Well, Derek going missing is nothing new, but I was out running and could just smell him in pain.” Stiles still never understood the whole scent thing. A part of him really wanted to know. Another part really didn’t. “Just found him like that; all scratched up, not bleeding… at least not when I found him, but he certainly hadn’t healed quickly. Was kind of hoping Deaton would be here to explain it, at least provide some insight. He’s left early for this meeting thing.”

“You do realize by now that it’s probably code for some weird Druid, Witch Doctor gathering, right?” Despite how serious he was, Stiles only received a blunt, narrow eyed look from Scott. He just shrugged, 90% sure he was right. But obviously not the time. “Okay, so Derek ...completely naked… Did you find any anal probes nearby while you were at it?”

“Stiles, I’m serious!”

“What? So am I,” sort of.

“He can probably hear you too, not the time dude.”

Stiles ran a hand through his hair, biting his lip as he thought about the situation. “First the wolf attack, then this.”

Scott snapped to attention at this. “What?” Oh yeah, Stiles hadn’t told him about that yet. He explained about the attack at the loft, gaining the usual sympathetic looks and questions of ‘Are you alright’ and ‘do you want me to take some of the pain away’. It was almost sweet how much Scott cared sometimes. But by the end of it, concern had turned to confusion and neither of them said anything.

They must’ve had the same thought at the exact same time as they scrambled back to Derek. He was still just as pale, but had seemed to have collected himself in the few minutes they’d left him. More lucid at least.

“Derek,” Scott spoke soothingly, placing a hand on the beta’s shoulder and getting down to his eye level. “Can you show me your eyes?” It was a strange thing to see, Derek briefly flicked his gaze over at Stiles, almost like he was asking permission. He gave the werewolf a soft, reassuring smile before Derek looked back to Scott.  
Not for the lack of trying, Derek did the whole showing off routine of closing his eyes and focusing. But they were still his natural color when they opened back up, not even the slightest flicker of blue. A wave of tension suddenly emanated in the air between them, Scott particularly looking worried.

“Can… Can you show me your claws? Fangs? Anything?” He was trying so hard to control his worries, poor guy. But seeing Derek try and fail was certainly unnerving. It had been just a year or so ago that Scott was seeking this exact solution for himself, and now seeing Derek powerless and like he could keel over at any second. It was unnerving to say the least.  
The conclusion was fairly obvious however.  
“He’s been split in half,” Stiles mused out loud. “Tore him in two. Derek’s human.”

\--

While probably not the safest of places, Scott had convinced Stiles to take Derek to the Stilinski household for the night. Though Scott still had Isaac living with him, the argument of ‘My mom can barely handle two werewolves had home, I dunno about a third… or two and a half, whatever’, and it was an all-round compelling argument.  
The ride was unsettlingly quiet though. Derek had barely made a sound let alone uttered a word. Eventually Stiles couldn’t take it anymore. A silent car ride with Derek just felt so wrong!

“S’ weird, not even getting bossed around by you in my own jeep,” he started, trying to make light banter, briefly smiling over at the were—uh, the other male. “I know you and Scott have gone all buddy buddy and all, but seriously. No do as I say or I’ll… Fuck, what was it… Bite your… neck… or something.”

The humor was either lost on Derek or it was just a really bad time. Stiles hoped it was the former. Feared that it was both. He gripped the wheel tighter as he thought back to what Danny had said to him earlier. Talking to Derek about college. Why was it such an issue? Why was it worth bringing up? It wasn’t like Derek of all people was going to miss him.

As he glanced up, his hands had almost gone as white as a sheet with nerves about saying the next sentence. Apparently his body thought it was a scary topic too. But perhaps now while Derek seemed basically comatose, sure, that was a good idea.  
Stiles took a deep breath and sighed heavily. “I’m applying for UCLA as my first college choice.”

Wide eyed and looking like he’d just been shot, Derek snapped his head up at Stiles. “What?!”

Stiles hit the brakes, hard. Incredibly glad there was no one else on the road this late, he’d almost gotten whiplash from sudden stop as it was. “Jesus fuck! Don’t…” He trailed off his sentence as he looked over at Derek. The look on his face was one he’d only seen once before. When Derek had lost Boyd from his pack, one of complete untamed pain. His words were suddenly lodged in his throat and he couldn’t speak. Not while looking at Derek any way. He swallowed heavily and turned back to the road. “D-don’t do that…”

“Stiles,” Derek mumbled, still not a full sentence, but he was recovering.  
Stiles was going to have words with Danny tomorrow.

-

When Stiles thought about it, this was the first time he’d seen Derek coming into his home through the front door. Had he ever entered Stiles’ room legally before? It was far too late and he was exhausted though, now really wasn’t the time to be having these thoughts. They hadn’t exchanged any other words since Derek’s outburst, but Stiles continually caught the werewolf looking at him with puppy dog eyes, the likes of which Scott only wished he could do. It wasn’t unsettling so much as just… new. He didn’t really know how to feel about it. 

“I’ll take the couch,” Stiles eventually spoke up, having locked the door behind them, his Dad working the night shift at the station. Normally the thought wouldn’t be so unsettling, but Derek just looked so off-kilter, Stiles almost wanted to keep an eye on him over night. He wasn’t going to however. But Derek certainly looked like he needed the more settling sleep.

“Stiles.” Derek’s voice was still little more than a murmur, and seemingly his vocabulary had been ripped to shreds. A total of two words had left the man’s mouth, half of them being Stiles’ name.

“One day I’m gonna get sick of hearing that,” he tried, a shaky smile on his features to try and lighten the mood. “Hell, maybe you’ll be able to pronounce my name right.”  
The two of them shifted about uncomfortably. What happened to the sniping at each other, the harsh glares and obvious dominance from werewolf strength? Well, he knew what had happened to the latter of them, but still.

“You want anything to drink?” Stiles asked, because he certainly needed a drink after this. A hard one perhaps. He knew where his dad had that hidden bottle of whiskey. And since he could get drunk (unlike most of his friends), why waste the ability? Derek nodded softly in answer, Stiles’ smile returning a little. “Okay, well, you know where my room is. You head on up, I’ll bring it to you, okay?”

It was almost sweet, like taking care of Derek when he was sick. A supernatural sickness that seemed to have sapped him of… well, him. But… Why was Stiles thinking like this? He blinked as he shook off the thought, seeing Derek to the stairs before heading to the kitchen. Seriously, this whole thing was messing with his head. Derek Hale did not need looking after. At least, that’s the façade that he’d put up. With his walls down like this, Stiles could very well see that he did.

Whether this was a permanent thing or simply one that would go away in time, it was the most vulnerable Stiles had ever seen him. Through near death, twice, to the loss of his pack members, Derek would always hold an air about him of superiority and loneliness. This was legitimately the first time Stiles had been able to see through it.  
It hadn’t actually hit him until being in the car. Derek so silent, but not in his usual brooding way. It was a sad silence, the kind Stiles had been used to in the months following the death of his mother. The only time he’d turned away Scott, if only for a day at a time. Even if his father was home, they’d be in separate rooms, but he’d always hear the restrained sobbing through the walls, physically or mentally, one of them was always crying.

Derek was like that right now. So in need of someone. No, he’d said it himself, so in need of… Stiles? Trying to comprehend that sent a foreign feeling coursing through his entire body, just so—

“STILES!”

He panicked, the very scared, very vulnerable Derek crying out for his help. The shock had his hand fly open, dropping the glass into the sink, the collision making a cracking sound. Damn, one more glass to replace… Not that it needed replacing in a house with only two people. But still.  
No time to think about it. Stiles tore upstairs, his hand soaking wet from where he’d dropped the glass and left the tap running. He was terrified of what he’d find that would cause Derek so much fear. Flinging his door open, a lot of things made so much sense.  
Derek was standing up against the wall, his hands shaking as he gripped tightly onto Stiles’ favorite baseball bat (he really needed to learn how to play some time). Across the room, on his bed, obviously having gotten in through the open window… somehow, was the same wolf from Derek’s loft. The eyes glowing an icy blue, filled with nothing but contempt and hatred until it glanced over at Stiles.

For a minute his heart stopped, remembering his encounter from earlier that evening, how it had easily torn his old bag open. How if it had been him, just a few inches closer, his entrails would be painted all over the loft.  
Before he had the chance to view the short special feature of his life, its eyes dimmed as it stared at Stiles, going from his haunches to suddenly calming down. And… was it whining? He blinked in confusion, but inched closer, and indeed, soft whimpers, not of pain or hurt, but what he could only figure was regret, keening out from the wolf now lying on his bed.

Thinking it was safe, Stiles glanced over at Derek, watching his Adam’s apple throb a little as he swallowed heavily and slowly coming closer. When he was more in reach of the wolf though, it turned, once more flaring its eyes at him, barking almost territorially. Instantly, Derek backed off.

“Dude…” Stiles breathed out, glancing between the two halves of the werewolf. “You’ve got a lot of fucking issues don’t you?”

-

It had become incredibly clear that the wolf had no intention of leaving Stiles bed, surprisingly calm and almost protective of it, and him. Any time Derek even tried to come close to them, it would again begin to howl at him. Meaning Stiles got to sleep in his bed after all. He wasn’t happy about it (and it was a weird sensation to not be comfortable in his own room), but the almost feral animal didn’t seem to be giving them a choice.  
Feral really was the wrong word. Whereas earlier it had just seemed scared and disoriented, much like the actual Derek, it seemed far clearer in its thoughts and actions now. Trying to keep as close to Stiles as possible, though more so to perhaps stay as far away from Derek.

“Does Derek hate himself?” Stiles had called Scott up the instant he knew the wolf wouldn’t be going anywhere. And of course, Scott had to be the one voicing what they were both thinking. By the morning, Stiles had coaxed the wolf out of his room with some Lucky Charms (Derek liked things with sugar? Who knew!), so Derek, having had a very uncomfortable night’s sleep, was now tangled in Stiles’ bed sheets, his head buried into the pillow.

“Hate’s kind of a strong word with Derek,” Stiles replied, watching the wolf act almost like a puppy, sniffing around the house and having to be told he was bad whenever it looked like he was going to try and mark its territory. It would growl at him, but nothing more. “I don’t think he’s exactly pleased with himself. Think about all the shit he’s been through. How much of it does he blame himself for?”

There was a brief silence between them. It had really taken a long while for them to figure out that Derek was kind of a wreck. His life was in shambles, his only (sane) relative was half way across the country and everyone else… That urge to embrace Derek flared up again, it wasn’t as uncomfortable as before, but Stiles still didn’t like it.

“So, we’ve got the two parts of him safe,” Scott eventually moved on, neither of them wanting to continue the previous subject. “What now then? Do we just wait? I seriously don’t think this is something we can just wait out.”

About to reply, Stiles was interrupted when his doorbell rang. “Who the fuck--- Hang on Scott.” He put the phone down and headed for the door. He hadn’t ordered anything lately, hadn’t been told by his father to expect anything. Seriously, it was early for house-callers. “Hello? How can I—YOU!” Stiles had opened the door and practically jumped out of his skin.

Lucinda gave a cheerful wave and giggle as she stood behind an older woman, raven black hair and striking violet eyes. Derek’s wolf lightly trod over from the main room to the front hallway, growling at the sight of the two. Again, the young with just laughed. 

“See. I told you he’d be here.”

\--

“We’ll be leaving Beacon Hills once we’re done here. I apologize profusely for my daughter’s interference with the natural balance here.” Stiles had been hoping the woman would be named Sabrina or Phoebe or Willow, some kind of kickass witch name. Vera was still cool though… kind of. He wasn’t one to judge by names. She seemed a lot less inclined to do anything drastic or reality altering though. It was almost mystifying, she didn’t look to be older than her early thirties, but spoke with the calm and grace of Stiles’ grandparents.

It was funny, mentioning Sabrina, Lucinda was apparently much like the teenage witch, very self-assured and thinking she could do whatever she wanted, tapping into the power of the Nemeton. Both Scott and Stiles were glaring daggers at her and yet she seemed not to have a care in the world.

“It was just some fun, mom,” Lucinda sighed like she’d not bewitched the entire school’s human populace into believing she’d been in their lives the whole time, and apparently, this. “That werewolf took away my chance to figure this cutie’s problem, I just returned the favor.”

“Were it not the fact that you forced me into a fairly painful ordeal, I’d be flattered,” Stiles deadpanned. Seriously, she was a pretty girl, but she’d put a truth spell on him because he was terrified of her. When had they left the age of secret admirer cards in lockers?

“And by returning the favor you tore a person in two.” Vera’s eyes glowed with a rage Stiles couldn’t even begin to fathom. Witches. Fucking scary. “Not only that, but I know the boy, he’s Talia’s son, and with everything that family’s been through you should know to leave well enough alone.” While Derek was still sleeping, somehow, on Stiles’ bed, the wolf was curled up at his feet, again, almost protectively, glaring up at Vera. “You can be assured, not only have I the unfortunate means to again pack our lives up, but thanks to her ‘fun’ I’ll be binding her powers the instant we set up our new home.”

While not exactly a favor to them considering the damage already done, the look of horror on Lucinda was enough to help Stiles believe it was a just punishment. “How, exactly, can you… repair this?” He asked, looking between Derek and the wolf. “How was it even achieved? Didn’t come across anything like this when we were trying to find a cure for Scott.”

Vera smirked, a light chuckle emanating from her. “You think it so simple to just google search a witch’s abilities?” She had a point. Stiles huffed a little but let her continue. “While a struggle for most low level witches, taking perhaps a week or two.” Well, that at least explained where Derek had been, caught up in some witch’s petty revenge. No, he was not going to let that go. “It’s simple to repair. He may be a little disoriented for a while though.”

“Oh, we’ve already been through that stage, nothing we can’t handle.” Well, Stiles hadn’t exactly handled it so much as just let it happen, but same thing, right?

Vera nodded softly, looking down at Derek and focusing intently. Her eyes glowed and the air around the room thickened. Stiles swallowed heavily as he found it difficult to breathe, but with a crack, everything returned to normal, not seconds after it had begun. The wolf was no longer resting at Stiles feet (just when he was getting comfortable) but before anything could really register, Derek shot up from his slumber, eyes glowing blue and almost wolfing out. No, he was wolfing out, rather violently in fact.

“Derek?” Scott was the one to move, his eyes glowing that creepy alpha red as he moved calm the beta down. Stiles stood back for a moment, glancing over to where the witches were standing a moment ago, but now gone, vanished into thin air. Hopefully not coming back either. Least of his problems though.

Derek roughly tried to push Scott away for almost a minute until he started to relax a little. Not relax really, just slowly go from one emotion to another. It took the two of them a minute to understand, he’d gone from violent outburst to broken sobs, resting his head against Scott’s shoulder as his walls tried to build back up again, human emotions being pushed back by werewolf control.

“Fuck,” Stiles mumbled under his breath, he couldn’t imagine what being Derek Hale was like. All that pain and suffering, bottled up and hidden as far away from others as possible.

Werewolf hearing had already kicked in as it turned out. Derek instantly turned to gaze over at Stiles as the human cursed. They locked onto each other’s eyes for perhaps the briefest of moments, but Stiles could see everything in them.

“Stiles…”

His chest seized up and his stomach fluttered.

“Scott, get him home.” He almost snapped, making both werewolves flinch at how easily and suddenly it had come out of him.

“Stiles?” Shit, Derek still hadn’t follow recovered, those eyes showed nothing but hurt.

“Now!”

Scott was a little uncertain, obviously his wolf a little annoyed about taking commands (from a human no less), but looked between Derek and Stiles, nodding slowly. “S-sure.” He stammered.

“No, Stiles - wait!”

“Take him home, Scott!” Stiles voice was shuddering, he couldn’t deal with this right now. He was leaving in a few months and it was now all this had decided to show up. He couldn’t handle it. He heard Derek whimper as he was led out of the room, calling the human’s name over and over until the front door slammed shut.

Derek was in love with him.

Shit.


	5. Intervention

As it turned out, Derek was either the worst liar in the world, or the best. It depended on the point of view. Derek had been keeping a far bit more than pain and hurt and fear locked away within himself. He’d left himself without the ability to know the better emotions from the worse too. The minute his walls had crumbled, everything flooded him and had just left him a nervous wreck. Werewolves controlled their emotions; it was their greatest weapon. But to know all of that had been hidden away was… terrifying to say the least.

For example; Derek could vividly remember the first time he ever laid eyes on Stiles. Not because of Scott. Not because of the avalanche effect that his life had become since then. No, he remembered first laying eyes on Stiles and being able to accurately remember every detail of the human’s form. Small, fragile, lanky, pale. He could actually remember the exact mole that stuck out on his skin like a photograph had developed in his mind. Every minute detail from the twitch of his fingers down to the words that carried over the early day chill. The jump he’d made upon first seeing Derek, and more than anything, the shiver that ran down the werewolf’s spine when Stiles had accurately figured out who he was.

Why would he keep those notions to himself? Derek didn’t even know those memories existed until the ride in the jeep, Stiles excitedly telling him that he was going to University at the other side of the state. He should’ve been exuberant over that fact. No more sarcastic retorts over what he was capable of, what Stiles claimed was true over what wasn’t, no more arguing, sneaking into his loft, no more secrets. No more Stiles. No more Stiles. No more Stiles.

It had shaken Derek to his core to know that though. No defences up to protect him, no control, nothing. Stiles had taken advantage of his vulnerable state and hurt Derek in the most perfect way. Even when his werewolf control had returned, there was no more hiding those thoughts. They’d snuck into Derek’s brain, caged themselves there like a wild animal, constantly tearing about and howling, never leaving him alone. Stiles was leaving. Stiles was leaving Beacon Hills. Stiles was leaving him.

“Are you okay?” Scott had asked him when he’d been dropped off back home after the ordeal. His wolf reluctantly back where it belonged, inside of him, dealing with everything that had happened that had been his fault. This was just another one. Inside he was howling, wanting to tear off back to the human’s house and try to convince him, talk to him, anything. He was in control again though. Barely. Scott had to snap his fingers to get Derek’s attention. “Do you wanna tell me what’s going on here? I’m not gonna pry, but I’ve known Stiles my whole life. He’s never been so adamant to see the back of someone before… well, maybe Jackson.”

Would Scott understand? Derek wasn’t even sure he did. He was like some pathetic, childhood crush, just pouncing upon him and punching him the gut with feelings he hadn’t fully experienced since he’d first laid eyes on Paige. Except ten times stronger. And that included the rejection, something he’d never really experienced before.  
No, this wasn’t something Derek needed to concern others with. Especially not Scott. He shook his head and tried to give a content look, but it didn’t feel reassuring when making it. “No, just go home, Scott,” he answered softly. “Just look after yourself, and Stiles.”

The true alpha nodded and soon left nothing but the faint smell of fuel outside the door for a few fleeting moments. Derek was alone again. Like he’d been content with for the last good portion of his life. Like he was used to.

Derek suddenly hated this feeling.

\--

It had started with the strange exchange between them after the witch incident, but in the coming weeks, it was easy to notice that Stiles and Derek were avoiding each other. On the nights Scott had arranged at their homes, the other would make some excuse as to why they w/couldn’t come. (“Sorry Scott, gotten really far behind on my homework lately, and you know how…” from Stiles and “No” from Derek). Any time it was at his home, they would sit as far away from each other as physically possible while still remaining in the same room.

Before now, Scott hadn’t realized there was a smell for anxiety, insecurity, sadness, etc. But he could always catch one or the other from them. Especially Derek. When he considered that more often than not, all he could smell from the older werewolf was cologne or whatever variety of shampoo he’d switched to, it was incredibly bizarre. Being the doting True Alpha he was (and best friend to Stiles, of course), at least three times a week he would ask them what was going on. They would always give the exact same answer. That nothing was wrong and then they’d change the subject.

Despite the appearance, Scott wasn’t a completely dopey guy. He’d had his fair share of problems. Whether it be friendship, relationship, or being chased down by bloodthirsty killers… ship. This just didn’t sit right with him. Stiles and Derek were friends after all. Perhaps not in a traditional sense. They didn’t hang out and eat pizza with each other much like Scott would with Stiles. Nor would they give each other advice like Scott would with Derek. But they had… something. And to see them both so suddenly insecure in each other’s presence was off putting.

Not to mention it was seriously throwing off their whole pack dynamic. Scott’s intention had been to make sure that they held a friendship that would last throughout the distance between them when they went off to college. Hell, Scott hadn’t told them yet, but he’d been accepted into a college just a couple of towns over, within reach via his bike so he’d be staying in Beacon Hills during his studies so he could remain the alpha and protect his territory. Kind of acting like the beacon bringing them back to Beacon Hills for the holidays and such. It was going to be strange, not being able to just wake up and head over to Stiles’ for a gaming session, but it was going to be for the best. They were all happy with their decisions and everyone was going to come back.

Now he wasn’t so sure.

Fortunately. While he was still getting the ropes of being a dominating Alpha with powers some werewolves only dreamed of. He knew he was excellent at meddlesome human powers to fix any and all problems.

\--

“Ow ow owwwwwwwwwwww!”

“For crying out loud, Stiles,” Danny hissed, gingerly petting Stiles’ hair as they rode in the back of the jeep. He was very thankful for the care, but he was in pain dammit!  
“Hey, you’re not the one wounded here,” he retorted, trying to sound threatening, but it was very hard to do in his situation.

“You’ve only twisted your ankle,” Scott called back, an obvious smirk carrying on his voice as he drove. Which suddenly, Stiles was considering taking away driving privileges for his baby from said Alpha. “Lucky for you that’s all you got.”

Okay, so maybe Stiles was over exaggerating a little, it wasn’t often he got hurt unless he’d genuinely gotten in the way, or was being used as bait (seriously, Gerard was how old and still managed to beat the shit out of him?). Still, he wasn’t used to dealing with pain like they were. No werewolf powers or supernatural reflexes or anything. A twisted ankle still hurt like a bitch! Indeed meaning he couldn’t drive anyway, so, yes, Scott had permission to drive right now.

“God dammit Scott, why can’t you or Isaac just take my pain away?” He whined, Danny looking over at Scott with an expression that seemed to ask the same thing. Seriously, Danny was the worst nurse ever. Even if his hands were very comforting (now if only Stiles could’ve gotten him to sing soft kitty). “It’s not like they’re following us. I mean, what, it was one rogue beta under the full moon. Satomi’s right? They must’ve subdued him by now.”

Scott was oddly quiet at that notion, squirming a little uncomfortably in the seat. Something very strange was going on and he really didn’t like it. “Scott, I know when you’re keeping something from me,” he eventually continued, an accusatory tone in his voice. “What the hell is going on? Actually…” Stiles paused and fought Danny’s hands, seating himself up to look out the window. “Where the hell are we going? Isn’t this—“ Again he cut himself off as they pulled up to a particular building. “What the fuck are we doing at Derek’s loft?!”

“Uh, it was closer?” Scott attempted, poorly, to cover. Stiles was not impressed.

“Dude, we literally have to go past the turning for my street to get here.” Stiles deadpanned. Were he able to walk right now he would’ve stormed out of his own car and walked all the way home. Very diabolical, especially for Scott. “Why are we here? Someone tell me what the hell’s going on, right now!”

Instead of a verbal reply, Scott cut the engine, hopping out of the driver’s seat. Isaac, who had called shotgun, jumped out his own side, circling around until they both stood outside Stiles’ door. “No… No no no, don’t you dare!” Stiles snapped to them, the door opening and both of them lifting him up, latching under a shoulder each as Danny waved to him, not looking apologetic in the slightest. Smug bastard, he’d been in on this! “Guys, let me go!”

“Nope,” Scott chirped, a grin on his face, almost unnaturally perky, even for him. Dear God, this was his idea! Stiles desperately wanted to be angry, but found himself so calm all of a—

“Hey! No, stop that!” Stiles caught sight of the black veins flowing up Scott’s arm as they finally took Stiles’ pain away. Only after they’d open Derek’s door had they finished. Stiles was easily able to walk again now, but they both had a tight grip on him. “This is torture I tell you! Worse than waterboarding!”

“You’re over reacting,” Isaac sighed, marching Stiles in to see Derek, sitting on his couch and reading, looking as confused as Stiles was angry. That somehow made it even worse. Not only did Scott plan this, he hadn’t even told Derek! When had he become such an evil genius?

With no effort at all, they tossed Stiles flat on his ass into Derek’s loft, but before he had the chance to scramble to his feet and peel after them, they’d closed the door and the distinct sound of a lock being worked echoed around the empty home. “You two need to sort out whatever the hell it is that’s going on,” Scott called through the door. Stiles had obviously figured out what was going on, so wasn’t surprised, just angry, but he turned to see Derek’s eyes go wide at the notion. The werewolf, in the blink of an eye, had shot up from his position and barreled at his front door, slamming on it hard. “Sorry Stiles, this is for your own good.”

“Scott, I think even you should know Stiles can’t hit the door that hard,” Derek growled, receiving no reply however. “Open my door right now!”

There was a brief pause. “Sorry Derek, this is for your own good,” Scott eventually amended. Then that seemed to be it, Derek spent a good minute or so banging on the door and trying to open it. But to no avail. He gave in, despite himself, taking a brief moment before turning to Stiles.

They stood in silence, trying not to look at each other until Derek soon spoke up.  
“So… I guess we should start talking.”

\--

For the few brief moments of silence, Derek tried to find it in himself to hate Scott. It was none of his business to intervene in and now he was making it so, going so far as to draw a line on the situation. Of course, Derek also knew that Scott was the kind of guy that could read his friend’s emotions simply by looking at them, and the mere presence of discomfort was something that needed eradicating. Not to mention, with how stubborn he and Stiles were, Derek was never going to sort this situation out on his own, not before everyone parted ways at least.

The situation spoke for itself however, Stiles had gone quiet and was doing his best to look anywhere but at Derek. A full two minutes of awkward silence filled the room, causing massive amounts of discomfort to pool in Derek’s stomach, twisting it into knots. He knew it would start like this, and still he couldn’t help but feel so off balance from it.

“There’s really nothing to talk about,” Stiles eventually began, turning and trying to open the door, as if Scott would just give up so easily. To both of their surprise, Derek answered the actions with a laugh. Confused, Stiles, finally looked at him. “And what the hell is so funny?”

“You,” Derek answered bluntly, his features soft, a genuine smile as he stared back. Obviously it made Stiles uncomfortable, as was expected. The human squirmed about; gaze back down to the floor, hoping the tangent would end there. But, of course, they were stubborn. “Facing a problem with no escape and still trying to hide from it. So, yes, even if not intentional.”

“You think it’s intentional?” Stiles attempted to tangent off, but Derek stared bluntly, quelling the attempt. Sighing, Stiles banged against the door, the rattling even startling Derek, before he came into the room and slumped on the couch, facing away. “Okay, how ’bout I don’t particularly want to talk about it? Thought of that?”

“Yes, because I don’t particularly want to either. I want whatever’s happening to take course on its own, but our almighty alpha doesn’t seem to like dissonance in his family.” Derek knew Scott was listening in to every word. First of all, rude. Second, it was true and they all knew it. He could hear Isaac’s snigger of agreement even through the metal of the frame.

Stiles didn’t seem to have an answer for it, but the tension rolling off of him didn’t stop either. “Then where do you wanna start?” he eventually asked. “Please enlighten me as to where all of these fucked up notions stemmed from.”

“I’d hardly say they’re fucked up,” Derek tried to begin, before Stiles silence him with an accusing finger.

“This is you and me here, Derek, it’s the most fucked up thing in the known galaxy. In this universe.” he paused and Derek silently laughed. ”In the entirety of existence!” Which again, caused Derek to laugh, more loudly this time. Even when trying to be serious about a situation, Stiles would always go over-the-top with dramatics, no matter how dire or small. 

“Will you stop laughing?! Really not helping your case.”

“My case?” Derek deadpanned, getting up and forcing himself into Stiles’ view. The two shared a look neither seemingly wanted to break, nor wanted to admit what it was for. Thankfully though, Derek had one upper hand. While Stiles huffed and did his best attempt to roll away, Derek snatched at one of Stiles’ arms in a vice-grip, definitely earning a reaction this time.

“Ow ow! Is this what you call affection,” Stiles snapped but cringed. As Derek smirked triumphantly, he began to let go. Sitting, Stiles pulled his arm back, nursing it gently. “See, this is the whole reason I don’t want to go into specifics; it’s stupid and we’ll just end up arguing.”

Rolling his eyes, Derek sighed, reaching up and pinching his forehead. “It’s pretty established by now that we seem to argue over everything, no matter how small,” he returned, only to see Stiles curled up, knees hugged to his chest.

“Exactly,” the younger male replied, a frustration in his voice Derek couldn’t pin down. “No matter what happens, no matter how hard I try, you always seem to just… flat out reset. Our relationship returns to zero, you go back to thinking I’m some snarky asshole and…” Derek was doing it again, flat out, full-bodied, sidesplitting laughter.  
Stiles turned a full-on glare to him. “See! You think I’m a joke!”

“No, that’s not it at all!” Derek protested, Stiles getting up to walk to the door, banging on it loudly for Scott to open up at no avail.   
Calming down, softly catching his wrist mid swing, Derek held him in silence for a brief moment. “I just… before all this started a few months ago, I was actually thinking the exact same thing. Like, everything we do just resets our perception of each other. I’m not the only one at fault here you know.”

Silence. Not the answer Derek was hoping for.   
But becoming less awkward. Stiles’ slim fingers curled back into his palm firmly gripping in attempt to keep himself from outright falling apart. At least, that’s what Derek could ascertain from the body language.

“We wouldn’t work,” Stiles mumbled softly, folding his arms across his chest and still doing everything not to look at Derek. “You honestly think I hadn’t thought this through before? I don’t even get it myself, just… I find it easy to be myself around you, even if I am the nerdy guy archetype in our group.”

“That’s just insecurity,” Derek softly tried to encourage, but Stiles shook his head.

“No, I’m not going to believe that. What evidence is there that I’m wrong? I just continually get in the way and quip one liners. Not to mention I just fight with you all the time. Not physically, of course -that would be stupid… Though, have you actually ever won a—“  
“Yes,” Derek interrupted sharply. “Just keep going, you were on to something..”

Stiles looked up briefly, a small flicker of a smile, but it faded, slouching against the wall and sliding down. “All we do is snap at one another. There was a period in my life where I wouldn’t even stand being in the same building as you because it just frustrated me. You frustrate me in the worst of ways. I mean, we’re friends, right? I mean, we have our own way of showing it I guess, we’re certainly not going to be having sleepovers and braiding each others hair.   
“But, it just won’t happen Derek. I get that, like, Scott and the others can see it. Hell, Danny saw it, but then again, he likes playing match up now he has his spare time. But It just feels like forced chemistry.” 

Stiles went quiet, letting his words sink. Derek thought to just leave it there, he seemed so adamant. But instead, he sat down, not making any physical contact this time.

“I’m not saying it’s something that will last,” Derek mumbled; probably not the most comforting, but he continued just the same. “I don’t know if it is something that can go on through indefinable ages. It’s just something that right now, in my heart, feels like something I want to go for. And that you’re thinking about it proves, maybe it’s something to, at least, test. Whether we work or we don’t, I… I just like you, Stiles. You’ve been there for me through a lot in the last few years.”

Now it was Stiles’ turn to laugh. “Even when I tried to get you sent to jail?” Derek couldn’t stop himself from joining in.

“You’re smart, Stiles,” he continued, none the less. “And you’re kind and caring. And I just wanna see if this is something bigger than just a feeling. One shot, that’s all.”  
Stiles blinked up, silence falling over them. Not uncomfortable, not thoughtful, just peaceful. Soon however interrupted by Stiles’ heart beat picking up a little as their fingers brushed gently against each other’s.

Soon followed by the noise of scuffling from outside the door, two pairs of feet moving away.


	6. Visiting (Epilogue)

Some seven odd months later, and an overnight drive away from Beacon Hills, Stiles sighed contentedly.  
He hadn’t really sexiled his roommate, just casually informed him of a guy from back home who was coming to visit Stiles wanted to get cozy. The reaction had been that Stiles was gay, to which, he of course, he had a stern words. “Not gay, I just… I dunno. This particular guy, I’ve been seeing him for a while, not wanting to explore it outside of that.”

When the roommate asked if Stiles did not find him attractive, teasingly batting his eyelids and pouting out his lips. At which point, he pointed to the door and told him to get out. Whether it was one of teasing or ‘do it or die’ wasn’t known, but with a quick chuckle, Stiles was alone. And apparently attractive to gay guys.

For the next hour and a half, he’d rushed around doing absolutely everything he could think of, cleaning the dorm up, somehow managing to hide away the piles of clothing that were strewn around the floor, make sure he was up to date on his work. Everything he thought that could make this evening a disaster was gone. And he’d made extra space for Scott too.  
Sure, Stiles and Derek had been seeing each other throughout the year so far, spent summer together enjoying each other’s company, making an entire road trip just to go to the beach, just so they could really do something together, see sights, argue over who was the better driver, snuggle up at night, seeing the sights (of which Stiles insisted they stopped at almost every single tourist trap) and just enjoying the time they had left. Of course the others had trailed behind, but it was a rule that no one was allowed in the same car as Derek and Stiles. There was a fair bit of emotion before Stiles had to say goodbye and go off to College. It had only meant to be a quick disappearing act and giving him the address of where he’d be staying, he’d ended up an hour late just from kissing Derek’s surprisingly soft lips. Like, seriously, for a guy that strong with stubble that sexy and mood so brooding, those lips were like heroin… not that Stiles knew what heroin was like, but he could make assumptions.

Beacon Hills was still 8 hours away, even that was if driving without breaks. And whenever Derek came up to visit during breaks, he’d had to bring Scott with him, because Stiles wasn’t going to live without his best friend and… Derek. Whatever they were. Obviously they were boyfriends, which went without saying, right? But neither of them had physically said it. Despite numerous pictures placed about his dorm room and the friends he’d made would go on about how cutesy they seemed together (yes, Derek Hale was cutesy, and it was adorable, ten times better than pixie-dust Derek). But still, neither of them had actually said it.  
Pulling him out of those thoughts though was a buzz at his door and he beamed with glee as Scott barrelled in with a full-bodied hug, Derek sighing heavily out in the hallway as the two of them rolled around like kids in mud.

“I’m seriously seeing a five year old aren’t I?” Derek huffed, just loud enough to be heard over the childish giggling of Scott and Stiles. Soon enough though there was a let up, Scott jumping up and beaming down at Stiles before helping him to his feet. The token human smiled back as he righted himself and shyly grinned over at Derek. “Hey.”

“Hey yourself,” Stiles squirmed about a little. The way Derek’s eyes lit up, not in a werewolf way, when they looked at him just made him shiver.

“Cool, well, I’ll see you later,” Scott suddenly announced, and before Stiles could say anything, he was gone. Stiles and Derek were alone. Not that it was a bad thing, it was just so sudden. Stiles gave a confused look at Derek who was doing his best to hide a smirk (failing, of course) and shrugging gently. Neither of them complained.

\--

An hour later and Scott still hadn’t returned. Stiles wasn’t keeping track of the time, of course not, he was pretending to be lost in the movie playing on his laptop, while he was in fact lost in Derek’s warm embrace. Had he known Derek Hale cuddles were the equivalent to being wrapped in a warm chocolate cookie, he’d have tried it much sooner. It was like having his own, personal heated blanket and massage pads. Every breath Derek took sent vibrations through his chest, his firm fingers trailing over every piece of exposed skin and leaving a tingling trail in their wake. It was surely bliss.

“Can I ask,” Derek suddenly began, pulling Stiles out of his boyfriend-induced coma. He gave a short hum of acknowledgement. “Can we safely say the trial period is over?”

It took Stiles a few moments to figure out what he meant, but then he remembered back to that moment back in the loft, kept hostage by Scott for about 15 minutes while he poured himself out in every emotional way. They’d still been in the trial period this whole time?

“I’m pretty sure that ended the moment we kissed,” Stiles confirmed, looking back at Derek, confusion still clear in his expression. “Did you wanna keep it going?”

“Well, I want to keep this going,” Derek sighed in content, nuzzling in and pressing a gentle kiss on Stiles’ ear, making him squirm in delight. The moment they’d figured out that spot was sensitive was both the best and worst moment of his life. “I mean, we said it was something we were both unsure of, but I’ve not regretted a single minute. I mean… it might be kind of presumptuous… But… I’m pretty sure—“

“I love you,” Stiles blurted out all of a sudden. There was a brief pause before Derek laughed.

“I was gonna say that.”

“Well… you were taking too long. Plus I’m psychic, obviously.”

“Obviously.” They both looked at each other longingly before Derek leaned in and pressed a firm kiss on Stiles’ lips. In no time at all it became heated, and within a minute they were making out.

“W-wait,” Stiles had to ruin the moment of course. “Is that why Scott left? Derek Hale, did you sexile your alpha?”

Derek’s grin gave himself away, stroking down Stiles’ cheek. “My boyfriend is just too smart.” The pair of them giggled a little. “Just for a few hours. Wouldn’t send him all the way here then back just to drop me off. In fact it was kind of his idea.”

“Dammit, is our relationship revolving around Scott intruding on everything? Cause I can barely share a bed with one werewolf, I’d sweat up a storm if he joins us too.”  
Again, laughing, Derek silenced him with another needy kiss.

“I love you.”

“Love you, too.”


End file.
